


Run

by MurderousQueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And also sexual intimacy, Angst, Blow Jobs, Claire likes Rey and thinks Poe and Finn are gay, Cute Destiel shower scene, Dean Winchester getting white stuff all over his face and licking his lips, Dean and Cas dating, Dean dealing with his feelings, Death of family memebers, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Wedding, Destiel being dumb and gay, Destiel fucking, Destiel on dates, Destiel with dogs, F/M, Gay Stuff, Good for you Sammy, Hand Jobs, Heavenly Savior, Hey look Sam gets to have sex too, Hunting, Just to clafify, M/M, Mistletoe, Non-Sexual Intimacy, OH BY THE WAY, Okay now there's butt stuff, Party Games, Pie face, Protective Dean, Sleepy Cas, Smut, Star War nerd Dean, Suicidal Tendencies, Supernatural Canon Verse, Team Free Will hunting, You go Sammy, but no butt stuff, destiel smut, gay shit, hunter husbands, kinda hunter husbands I guess, not yet anyway, sam gets married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 40
Words: 300,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderousQueen/pseuds/MurderousQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She rid the world of The Darkness, and of Lucifer, and then of God himself. And then brought her own storm.<br/>Sam, Dean and Castiel have to fight to stop this new threat. They run from everything and hide from anything that could be her doing. There has never been a more powerful threat, and she's been woven into their lives all along. </p><p>More tags and characters will be added as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run, Part One

She gravitated towards him, walking on air. It’s as if she had wings that caused her to drift gracefully closer. He stared, barely seeing her.

They called her The Savior, but she hadn’t done much saving. She’d never saved anyone in her entire life.

Apart from the first time. She rid the world of The Darkness, and of Lucifer, and then of God himself. And then brought her own storm. She was above God. Higher than him; with both the grace of an angel and the black eyes of a demon, the position as the new Queen of Hell and Commander in Chief upstairs with the fluttering men and women in meat suits.

And she was coming for Dean Winchester, to end it all.

 _Run_.


	2. Beginnings, Part One

**__**When Sam was a kid, a sixteen year old kid to be exact, he met a girl called Aroura. It was one of the incredibly rare times in his life he actually got to stay in town for a while. They were there almost six months, somewhere in Connecticut, and they even got a two bedroom flat to rent. Sam shared a room with Dean, twenty at the time, but he didn’t mind that at all. He was used to sharing with Dean and he was glad to have him around at such a time in his life when he was, for the first time, falling in love. Just puppy love, but the sixteen year old Sam didn’t understand that part.

He saw her in school the first day there, in English class, and she was the only one besides him and a quiet guy in the back that was taking notes. He was one seat to the left of her and there was something about her that just … struck. She was an average looking teenage girl; light brown hair fell straight, just past her shoulders and her eyes looked blue as far as Sam could tell. She had some freckles, very light freckles, kind of like Dean had, and she held herself so … freely. Like she was floating instead of moving. Her pen swept across her paper in delicate looped hand, the ink a deep purple rather than black. She kept her eyes focused ahead of her at all times and she looked well informed on everything that was being taught. There was an odd air of something radiating from her, but Sam couldn’t tell what it was.

Towards the end of class, her pen ran out of ink. She searched through her bag for almost two minutes looking for another ink cartridge (or so Sam presumed) but came up empty. Sam hesitated then, hesitated from doing something he’d do for anyone. His hesitance was on parallel with the nerves he had about ever talking to this girl. But he decided to suck it up, and offer her his spare pen.

She smiled at him. And mouthed ‘thanks’. His stomach exploded with ten thousand butterflies erupting from their cocoons. He attempted to smile back at her.

It was no surprise when he could barely read the end of his own notes when class ended. His hand had been shaking from the exchange right up until the bell went.

 He had to catch a bus back to the apartment after school and all he could think of while he sat waiting for it was that he needed to talk to Dean. ASAP. Before he attempted to talk to this girl who’s name he didn’t know. If he tried without talking to Dean first he’d just make a complete fool himself.

Aroura seemed to have other plans. As he sat for the bus, Sam felt a tap on his shoulder and almost had a heart attack. Actually, he was pretty sure he did have one when he turned around to find Aroura there smiling and holding his pen.

‘Thank you,’ was her hello. ‘I just wanted to give this back.’

Sam was stunned by the stillness of his hand when he reached out for the pen she released when he grasped it.

‘No problem,’ Sam replied. He hoped his smile didn’t looked forced. Or painful. Because hers seemed genuine. Or was that even a smile? Did she just have a resting nice face? Or what? And he was right, her eyes _were_ blue, they were _very_ blue and _holy cow she was sitting next to him!_

‘Bus?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’ Sam nodded. ‘Bus.’

‘How far away do you live?’

Sam’s heart rate increased a lot. Why was this girl talking to him? _Because that’s what people do, idiot. That’s how people make friends._ But why is she talking to _me_? _You gave her a pen._ Yeah, but –

‘Uh, the apartment building … the other side of town … it’s big, you might have seen … you?’

‘Hartford.’

Sam frowned. ‘Aren’t there schools in Hartford?’

‘Yeah. But I wanted to go to the same school my mom and dad transferred to when they were my age.’

‘Oh. Cool.’

Sam’s mouth was very dry. He could understand what this girl meant. Wanting to do what your family did was real big with him and his. Though he didn’t understand why someone would get a bus all the way from Hartford to a town close by that barely anyone knew of just to go to a _school_. But he wasn’t going to ask questions because a) he didn’t want to seem to invasive and b) he felt like he was sucking sandpaper so he was afraid his voice would come out as a dry croak.

‘Are you new?’ she asked suddenly, sounding curious. ‘I haven’t seen you around.’

‘First day,’ Sam half-croaked. He wished he hadn’t finished his water bottle from lunch so fast.

‘Ooh, rough,’ this mystery girl commented. Then she said up straighter and held out a hand. ‘I’m Aroura.’

‘Sam,’ said Sam, shaking the hand she offered. His palm was sweaty, but if she noticed she didn’t show it.

And that was how Sam made his first friend in his new school.

They sat together on the bus and talked some more. Sam answered some questions about when he’d arrived in town, where he’d moved from, what his last school was like and general routine stuff like that, while he found out that Aroura, the complete image of friendliness and innocence, was surprisingly in a rock band and was planning on getting a tattoo the first chance she got, yet she also wanted to be a writer. Someday she wanted to write on a big name TV show.

‘Like … Friends?’ Sam had asked, thinking of the show he and Dean sometimes watched together when they had the chance.

‘Darker,’ Aroura said mischievously.

When Sam got off the bus, he didn’t need Dean’s help anymore and he knew who he was sitting with at lunch the next day instead of day two of sitting alone.

It just … blossomed from there. Like a flower that bloomed almost overnight. By the end of two weeks they were dating and Sam had his first ever girlfriend, and hehad been the one to make the move and ask her out instead of waiting for her to make a move like he usually would. It turned out that she was even shier than he was, so if he had waited for her to do something it never would have happened.

They were together for six months. And then Aroura found out she was moving.

Two days later, Sam was uprooted too with no chance of seeing Aroura again.

Aroura was on his mind for a long time afterwards. She was one of the most interesting people he had ever met. She too lost her mother when she was six months old. _On the exact same day Sam had lost his_. And her mother had died in a fire too. Sam doubted that she’d died in the _exact_ same way as his own mother had, though. And then she’d lost her father … but she didn’t say how.

Her friends were all oddly mesmerizing. There was Kris, the dark and mysterious lead singer of her band, then the even more mysterious Mich, the other guitarist (Aroura was the main guitarist.) And lastly, a delightfully _evil_ seeming girl called Karla, who played the drums. Aroura seemed like the tiniest, purest thing on the planet, and she _was_ most of the time, like an actual real live angel, but at others, especially with her band, she was like Satan reincarnated or freed or whatever the hell had happened to the first Satan.

Aroura had been his first girlfriend, his first love and, the night before he left, the first girl he’d lost his virginity to, taking hers in turn.

There were things, even _years_ later, that Sam still didn’t understand about Aroura; like sometimes she would vanish for days at a time, sometimes she would rush off with no explanation and sometimes she would have mysterious red stains on her clothes than looked oddly like blood but she was never bleeding. And then there were the times when she seemed like she was sad, angry or extremely happy for no apparent reason. But that was what he loved about her.

He’d tried to contact her throughout many of those years, feeling stupid and knowing she’d probably forgotten all about him, until he went to college, left Dean and his father, leaving everything else behind too, and met Jess. Who made him forget about Aroura completely.

Except for that one time they’d gone to a party and their friend who played guitar had asked Jess to hold it for him while he dashed off to do something else. That gave Sam a pretty huge Aroura flashback.

And then again when Jess died. Burning like his mother had, and like Aroura’s mother had, on November second, the exact date of the last time he’d ever seen Aroura.


	3. Beginnings, Part Two

Tyler fell from the sky into Dean’s life.

Actually no, she fell from the roof of a house, but close enough. Shockingly she didn’t hurt herself, she just jumped to her feet then clapped eyes on Dean, then on John who stood a little behind him looking stunned.

‘I told her there was a better way to get in than through the attic,’ came a voice from the rooftop.

It was the second of May, the year 2005, and Dean was working a case with his father that two other hunters, Tyler and David, happened to be working too.

The first thing Dean and Tyler bonded over was the case. Then it was his car. Then his taste in music. Then they both flirted with the waitress at the diner they went to for lunch, then they ordered the same pie. This blonde haired, brown eyed English chick was basically Dean’s exact match personality wise and rapidly became the best friend he had ever had.

Tyler and Dean spent a lot of time hunting together from then on, giving John time to do his own hunting thing, and letting David off the hook.

‘Never liked hunting, me,’ said David thoughtfully, on many occasions. ‘A good crack at a decent case can be fun on occasion, but it’s just not for me.’

Dean and Tyler had much more in common than just their likes and dislikes. When Tyler was young, she’d lost her father, on November second, the same date Dean had lost his mother. Although her father had died in slightly a different way than Mary Winchester had, Tyler’s mother, alive and well in London, always knew it was something supernatural that did.

Tyler’s mother had been exposed to the supernatural from a young age too. She lived in a haunted house once, where the ghost that haunted the place thought Kay, Tyler’s mother, was her daughter and attempted to abduct her. Priests had blessed the house, the spots the ghost had appeared in and blessed Kay herself, but nothing worked. Until Kay’s brother discovered what to do and salted and burned the body. And then the house. And the family moved.

But ghosts had followed Kay around her whole live, and then Tyler too. Tyler had been raised to believe that hunting ghosts was the only lifestyle that was natural, and that all supernatural creatures were the enemy.

Tyler left school after her GCSEs at 16 and decided to stop hunting with her mother so she moved in with her girlfriend Trish Moore, an American girl living with family in London. Her sister Jessica was still lived in the states and the two would talk on the phone a lot. But then, on November second weirdly enough, Trish died in a fire in her’s and Tyler’s bedroom and Tyler moved home with Kay.

Until she met David some years later, and the two decided to go travelling together, and hunt together.

Their visit to the land of the free was supposed to be a brief one, but when Tyler started hunting with Dean they stayed.

It wasn’t just Dean Tyler got along with. She and John got along very well too and they worked a few cases together here and there. In fact, Tyler had a journal similar to John’s, and they were always seen comparing pages and whispering. Dean frequently wondered what they were whispering about. How could Tyler have something John didn’t have?

Tyler also happened to be the last person to see John before he left for a hunting trip and didn’t come home for a few days. Which turned into weeks. But whenever Dean asked her if John had said anything, Tyler always gave the same shrug and shake of her head.

It was on November second that Dean had had enough and he enlisted Tyler’s help to go on a quest to track John down.

It also happened to be on November second that Tyler and David decided to go back to England.

Dean decided to seek out help from his brother instead.


	4. Beginnings, Part Three

Dean Winchester was not the first human the angel Castiel pulled out of hell. It was nearing the end of 2006 when a woman called Annabel was cast down after a tragic accident that claimed only her as the victim. Castiel remembered a command of a higher power, ‘get that girl, Castiel. That girl is important. She’s the one. The one from The First Book.’

The first book was the book hand written by God himself. It was like a Bible for angels and demons to abide by, but hardly any had seen it. Lucifer saw it, which is why he rebelled. Gadreel saw it, which is why he let the snake into Eden. But Castiel had never seen it, but he always obeyed his orders.

The moment Annabel got to hell she was given a choice. Be on the racks or torture those who were there already. She chose the second option. She was no righteous man and torturing was better than being tortured, or perhaps she had just always longed to spill blood. No one knew, although many demons, her recruiter Alistair included, had their thoughts and theories. She was a natural and seemed to enjoy what she did and she fought very hard when the angel wrapped an arm around her, pinning her to his chest, and soared out of the very depths of hell and into a gray forest.

This, the angel told her, was purgatory, and he would walk with her through to the other side. He had already dealt with the issue of her dead body, which was above ground and good as new bar one hand print, and it was waiting for her as if nothing had ever happened.

Annabel saw the angel’s true form as he saw her blackened, broken soul. He had seen the souls of many human’s, but never had he seen one so charred. He had seen many damaged, but none as damaged as this.

Castiel had been watching humans for as long as he could remember, but he never got to interact with them, and soon learned that Annabel was nowhere near as black as her soul. She had a lot of interesting things to say, a lot of opinions and stories of many fascinating people on Earth including stories about both Sam and Dean Winchester. That was the first Castiel heard of the Winchester brothers and little did he know it would not be the last.

Castiel didn’t know what it was that he felt towards Annabel, and years later, only when he grew to understand human emotion and feeling, he would discover that what he felt towards the damaged human was _like_. He liked her and did not just think of her as an ‘ignorant human’ as he should have, but then again Castiel was very different to his heavenly siblings.

It took one day, twenty four hours, of walking through purgatory with Annabel for Castiel to like her and he felt as though he would like to see what became of her, and what was so important about her that he had to pull her out of hell and then _leave her alone_. That part of the instruction was very clear.

Years later, he did hear of a human pulled from hell who had been given the gift of the grace of an angel, effectively turning her into one of them, but all it was whispers. Rumors, many stemming from pages of The First Book. There were other whispers that said that no, she had not become an angel, but a demon; a ruthless demon, the right hand man of King Crowley himself. But Castiel paid no attention to these whispers either. He had his own problems to deal with. The Darkness was in the world, he was working with the Winchesters to stop her, Amara as she was called, and at the same time he was suffering from PTSD _and_ was keeping a tracking eye on the human Metatron, who didn’t seem threatening in any way shape or form, but needed an eye on him just to be safe. All that, and he was rewatching Orange is the New Black on Netflix in his spare time, Dean watching with him when he could. They greatly enjoyed that show.

These days, actually from the very day he had raised Dean from perdition, Castiel never spared Annabel a passing thought. He never mentioned her, and his good friend Dean Winchester never did find out there was a woman out there who also bore Castiel’s handprint upon her shoulder and had walked through purgatory with him for a day.


	5. Beginnings, Part Four

He was merely a simple crossroads demon when he met the darkest human he had ever met in his entire life.

‘Emma.’

She had called herself.

‘I’m Emma. You’re a demon. Let’s chat.’

That’s what she had summoned him for? To chat? Well, he ought to just smite her on the spot – but she was pretty, she was interesting, and she was more evil than a lot of demons he had met. They would sit together all night and she would tell him about the many ways she would love to torture this person, that person, whoever. When Crowley mentioned his mother, asking what Emma would do to a witch who abandoned her young child, he was immensely satisfied and equally horrified.

Emma’s greatest fantasy was nailing someone to a cross and making small cuts all over their body with a sharp blade doused in acid and liberally splashing acid all over them. Then, she wanted to take a blunt knife, stick it into the side of her victim and twist it until she made a hole large enough to reach in and pull out a portion of their intestines then stop the hole up with acid soaked sponge while wrapping the intestines around the neck of the victim and choking them with their own innards, but before they passed out, she would stop. Then she would pick up the sharp knife again and dig into their chest, deep, carving out their heart. Then as the victim died from lack of blood flow, from previous blood loss, from all the acid wounds and everything else, she wanted to squeeze the heart so the last thing the victim saw would be their heart getting crushed. And then, if they were in hell, she could put the victim back together again and do it over and over and over and over.

That was a tad grisly for Crowley, but he did admire Emma’s murderous enthusiasm. He said perhaps that was too much for an abandoning mother, but he did think that burning up and then cutting off the fingers, toes, nose, ears and tongue of said abandoning mother would suffice after Emma had suggested that in a previous scenario.

They stayed up drinking together often in Crowey’s large house and it wasn’t just about torture they spoke. She told him of the Winchesters, who would come to him for help when the apocalypse came. He said he’d believe it when he saw it.

And he saw it. And after they came, he didn’t see Emma again for years. Not until after he and Dean Winchester had their little summer romance when Dean was parading around as a demon … and then she came back to say I told you so, congratulations King, and here’s a whole load of ideas to make hell even more torturous. Which Crowley put into action straight away.

And then he found a way to bestow upon Emma the greatest honor he could bestow upon anyone. Who needed a Winchester when you had such a twisted minded equal? (Although, he did miss Dean a lot.)

Emma was absent a lot from then on, but that was understandable. She was off around the world doing her vicious deeds. But every day he sat and waited for the day she would return. He kept using the Winchesters as substitutes; messing with them was fun. And then there was Amara, but that didn’t go too well either. He began to get worried, but he never let anyone know. His demons often asked, but he never told.

Emma would return when she returned.

Wouldn’t she?


	6. Beginnings, Part Five

Shit, when Emerald went down, it made Ruby forget her own name. When Ruby’s fingers grasped those golden locks, it caused a reaction from Emerald that made Ruby’s entire body spasm, forcing her to release, her back to arch and impossible sounds to escape her along with a string of profanities and cries of Emerald’s name. Then as Ruby came down Emerald would pop up, a glint in the eyes that matched her name, and drag tender kisses along Ruby’s collarbone, up her neck, her jawline and onto her lips, where Ruby could taste herself which should have been gross but it was hot as fuck.

A day in a dark room with Emerald was exactly what Ruby needed after a night with Sam Winchester. Okay, the guy was pretty, and probably really hot to those who enjoyed the male form, so it wasn’t _that_ hard to act like she was into it as he was, but dicks were weird, salty, spurty things that could never replace the touch of another woman.

Ruby and Emerald, jewels of red and green, or a black souled human and a black eyed demon who wanted the same thing. Lucifer. The apocalypse. The winged dicks from upstairs weak with no control and no wings left to fly them back up there.  

Half an hour later, Ruby climbed off of the strap on and collapsed next to Emerald, turning to look at her lover through seducing eyes and faking a look of casual innocence. Emerald didn’t buy it for a second.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, arching a spectacular eyebrow and giving Ruby one of her expecting looks.

‘What does it say about me in The First Book?’ Ruby asked, a purr in her voice, a finger trailing down between the breasts of her lover, tracing circles on her skin.

‘You’ll find out,’ was the only reply Ruby ever got.

Ruby had no idea how this dark, dark human knew about The First Book, nor had she any idea of how this human could possibly have read it, all she knew was that one day Emerald had let it slip that Ruby played a part in the book, an important part, and Ruby was determined to know if she was playing that part right.

Every time she left Sam Winchester satisfied and drugged up on blood, she would return to Emerald, have her mind blown and then ask the question. Day after day after day. She wondered _when_ she would find out, but she never prompted for more information, just simply hoped that it would come and she would find out in the very near future.

She did find out eventually. It was the day Ruby returned frantic and excited and grinning, declaring that this was it, the day Sam Winchester would kill Lilith and Lucifer would be freed from his cage. Ruby was shocked to see that Emerald looked, if possible, a little sad.

‘I told you you would find out,’ Emerald whispered.

She pressed her lips against Ruby’s softly, holding her face steady with a grip so firm Ruby couldn’t move.

By the time Ruby opened her eyes, Emerald was gone.

 _I told you you would find out_ , Emerald whispered in her head, as her own knife wielded by Dean Winchester penetrated her and everything went dark.


	7. Beginnings, Part Six

Sam Winchester was all he wanted. He just wanted a yes from him. Was that too much to ask? It was unfair that he couldn’t get what he wanted. He was _Lucifer_. He _always_ got what he wanted.

Although that wasn’t to say he didn’t have _a_ Sam, with hazel eyes and deep brown hair, the exact color of Sam’s to be exact, who _did_ say yes.

Was it odd that he, an angel who loved his father too much to love humans, was now, possibly, loving a human? He didn’t know if this was love or just sex, but he felt _something_ he had never felt before. Or maybe it was just the fact that he had consent to be inside _some_ Sam, even if it wasn’t Sam Winchester and even if it wasn’t in as in inside as in vessel. But it did mean something, especially after so long in the cage.

Being worshiped by demons was pleasant. Being worshiped by Sam was better. Having minions to do your bidding and attend to your every want was something anyone would want, surely, but having someone to talk to about your day or complain to about how your father cast you into the cage was a comfort.

Sam always listened. Even if he told the same story four times in a day. She was always sympathetic. She always consoled him. What more could he ask for?

Lucifer had read about Sam in The First Book, but he never believed that she would truly come to him. It was a fearful thing, part of said book coming true, but Sam always assured him the rest simply wasn’t _possible_. The Winchesters were nowhere near intelligent enough to lock Lucifer back up in the cage. Of course he’d be coming out on top of this apocalypse, one Sam as his vessel and the other at his side.

He talked about it with her a lot. How he would rule over Earth and create everything he’d always wanted to create and his stupid father couldn’t stop him, and everyone would look up to him and worship him and the woman at his side. Sam just agreed with every word.

Well, she agreed with every word until the day came for him to meet Michael on the battle field. He told her how excited was, how much he was looking forward to winning this thing for once and for all, and then Sam simply smiled a wry smile.

‘Whatever you say,’ she whispered, and reached up and grabbed the face of his tall, tall new vessel and kissed him.

When she pulled away she didn’t look like Sam anymore.

‘Fight him off, Sam,’ Aroura whispered.


	8. Beginnings, Part Seven

Mistress Magda’s add appeared out of the blue one day and he didn’t hesitate a second before making the call. When Mistress Magda arrived, however she was not what he expected at all. In fact, he recognized her straight away as Ariana, or The Holy One, as The First Book called her and as her name meant.

She smirked upon her arrival, tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

‘God,’ she greeted.

Chuck swallowed nervously.

Ariana certainly gave him everything the Mistress Magda add promised, and more, completely free of charge. She came back several times a week to give it to him again and again and again and she called him on the days she didn’t appear in person, her soft voice reminding him of the manner in which she appeared to float and drift as she moved. It got to the point where he was almost glued to the phone.

Ariana didn’t just give him mind blowing sex as Mistress Magda, but she also gave him inside information on many of his angels who he tried not to tap into too often lest they realize he was in their heads and discover that Chuck Shurley was indeed God.

It wasn’t just the angels she could dish about, but the demons too. She could talk for hours about the demons and their activities, especially the activities of the less important demons Chuck could never see when he prophesized the movements of angels and demons and Winchesters alike.

Ariana often sat by his side as he continued to write The Winchester Bible and made sure he didn’t stray from the path, often curling up his lap and whispering sensual things into his ear as he wrote, listening to the sweet promises she made and said she would act upon if he would only just finish that line, that page, that chapter.

He always did.

And he always scooped her up in his arms, stormed into the bedroom, tossed her upon the sheets and then God would go to town on his Holy One, her long, silky hair spread across his pillows and her smooth, strong legs locked around his hips.

It got to the point where she was no longer Mistress Magda, but just Ariana, _his_ Ariana, living with him and caring for him the way a true God should always be cared for. She urged his writing, she urged his breaks and she did the convincing he needed to go and see that musical that high school did based on his books. She was there by his side for _years_ , always small and perhaps a little cat like, never changing, always to be found curled up somewhere, her dainty legs tucked beneath her, waiting for him somewhere around the house.

Until she vanished one day. This also happened to be the day that Chuck’s sister, Amara, The Darkness, was unleashed upon the world. He had almost forgotten that it had said so in The First Book; it was the very first line.

The Darkness would come bringing her wrath, and The Holy One would flee to escape it.


	9. The First Book, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after the events 11x09 and is to serve as an alternate, my alternate if you will, to the rest of the season. To give you a better idea of the time frame, let's just say that by the end of the chapter it's December 15th. Got it? Got it. Good.   
> (And as for the coffee thing, I made that up remembering Cas's thing for coffee in season 8.)

‘You don’t think you could’ve mentioned this before? Before as in _years_ ago?’

Castiel gave Dean a frustrated look. If he hadn’t formulated the thought that this information was helpful he wouldn’t have said anything at all because he knew _exactly_ how Dean would react. Pissy and annoyed that Cas hadn’t shared this information sooner, without even asking _why_ he hadn’t shared it, instead just jumping right into pointing the finger.

‘Dean, calm down, there’s probably a reason he hasn’t brought it up before. Right?’ Sam reasoned. Sam was always the reasonable one, which Castiel greatly appreciated.

Dean looked at Cas expectantly.

‘It would have been irrelevant at any other point,’ Cas explained, looking from Sam to looking Dean firmly in the eyes. ‘And I was only reminded of it this morning when it was mentioned in another book I was reading looking for anything that could possibly help us out with a way to stop The Darkness.’

Dean didn’t respond right away. He stared at Cas for a moment and faltered, determined to stay angry. Castiel could practically see the cogs turning in his head searching for another thing to be pissed about. He saw the exact moment Dean seemed to settle on something to prolong his anger.

‘You remembered _this morning_ and waited until _now_ to bring it up?’

Castiel gave Dean a look of ultimate annoyance. He was trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes, because he feared that if he did he’d roll them so hard they’d fall out of his head.

‘Dean, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon and you weren’t here this morning.’

More jerking knobs and an awkward swallow. Cas could practically mouth the words along with Dean.

‘Why didn’t you call about it?’

‘Because you left your phone in my room and I’ve been waiting to return it to you since I found out.’

He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled the phone out and placed it down in front of Dean. Dean stared at it. Castiel saw out of the corner of his eye that Sam looked highly amused.

‘And … why didn’t you call Sam?’

Less defensive now, as if realizing his mistakes. Resisting the urge to smirk at Dean’s realization, he calmly and evenly said, ‘I did. But if you recall the long, distant past of _two hours ago_ , you and Sam were not together at the time of my call.’

Dean deflated. He folded his arms over, somewhat sulkily, and turns away from Cas.

‘You don’t have to get sarcastic,’ he mumbled moodily.

‘Well you didn’t have to go to Crowley instead of coming to me when Sam needed to talk to Lucifer but you did _that,_ ’ Castiel said sharply, and almost regretted it, but the memories of last night made him to go on. ‘Leaving me to clean up the mess when Sam got stuck in there.’

‘Alright, we get it. The angel is bitter,’ Dean snapped. ‘Now will you just tell us how we get this damn book?’

‘No,’ Castiel replied shortly.

‘ _No_?’

‘No. Not until you apologize for being irrationally angry.’

‘I am _not_ being irrationally angry.’

‘Yes, Dean. You are.’

‘I don’t need this.’

Dean stood up and left the table, leaving his phone behind. Again.

‘You forgot your phone,’ Cas called after him, but Dean ignored him.

‘What’s up with you two?’ Sam asked, turning towards Castiel with an expression of utter bewilderment. ‘Last night you hung out for _hours_ and suddenly you’re at each others’ throats.’

‘Nothing,’ Cas replied grumpily.

‘Well it doesn’t seem like nothing,’ Sam said seriously. ‘So come on. What’s up?’

‘What’s up is that your brother is BEING – AN – ASSHOLE!’

Castiel shouted the last three words in the hopes that Dean would hear. He was given a distant ‘FUCK YOU’ as a response. Sam’s eyebrows shot up.

‘DEAN!’ he shouted.

Dean didn’t reply.

‘As I said. Your brother is an asshole.’

Sam turned towards Cas again.

‘Cas, listen, if something happened between you two –’

‘So, the first book –’

‘–that you want to talk about –’

‘– has only been read by a –’

‘– you know I’m here, right?’

‘– handful of angels and demons,’ Cas said firmly, affirming that _no_ , he did _not_ want to talk about it. Because there was no _it_ to talk about, and if Dean would kindly stop calling him an asshole in mock “prayer” then _that would be fucking great_. ‘It’s likely that majority of those who have read it are dead. Raphael, Gadreel, Balthazar, Gabriel … and Lucifer and Metatron. Although I know the latter two are alive, I highly doubt another venture into the cage is wise, nor do I think revisiting the idea of getting information from Metatron is a good idea either.’

‘And the demons?’

‘Azazel. Lilith. Possibly – she implied it once during the period in which we were close – Meg. But each of them is just as dead as the last. Which leaves just one small possibility that somehow, just maybe, the book has been read by –’

‘Crowley.’

‘Crowley,’ Castiel confirmed Sam’s finishing assumption. ‘Which means we’ll need his help. Again. _If_ he’ll help us.’

‘I have a feeling he will,’ said Sam. ‘He always does. We’re less like enemies and more like frenemies. Or at least enemies with an alliance and a common enemy.’

Castiel nodded, and inside he had the feeling that the man now calling him a ‘rude, bitter old blanket-hog’ in prayer would try to find a way to combine the words ‘friends’ and ‘allies’ to name a new ‘frenemies’ they way he always combined words and had come up with things such as ‘werepire’ and ‘manicorn’ in the past. Although now Cas thought about it, he was certain he’d read the word ‘werepire’ in a fantasy book before, being used as the name for someone who had a seriously advanced case of lycanthropy but they were also a vampire, so maybe he shouldn’t allow Dean to take all the credit for that word.

He also had a passing thought that if he wasn’t so annoyed and frustrated with Dean he probably wouldn’t have recalled that and would have continued giving Dean all the credit for his use of the word.

And another note – _he_ was rude? The rudeness was all within the sulking _man-child_ in the next room. And he had a right to be bitter. And ‘old’ wasn’t an insult. Yes, he was old, several millennia old. That was a fact. And as for _blanket-hog!_ He was just pulling back the part of the blanket that _Dean_ had been hogging. Besides, Dean should recall that if Cas hadn’t _offered_ to share his blanket with him while they watched How to Get Away with Murder together, then he wouldn’t have had any damn blanket at all.

A grumpy, completely not-serious part of Cas was hoping the show would hurry up and teach them how to actually get away with murder already so he wouldn’t be found guilty of Dean’s when he decided to go in there and shut up his offensive prayers in a very permanent sort of way.

‘Cas? Hello? Earth to Castiel–’

Castiel snapped his attention back to Sam.

‘I’m sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?’

Sam frowned. _Oh here we go,_ Cas thought, predicting what was coming.

‘Cas, you’re staring at that wall so hard you look like you’re about to burn a hole in it. If you don’t want to talk to me about whatever happened then fine, but you should go talk to Dean about it.’

‘I’m going to get my coat,’ Castiel announced abruptly, rising to his feet. ‘We’ll leave to summon Crowley then.’

‘Why can’t we just call him?’ Sam asked.

‘His number is not in my contact list.’

‘It’s six six six. It’s not that hard to remember.’

‘Then call him and arrange a place to meet. We’ll go after I get my coat.’

Castiel swept out of the room without looking back. Unfortunately he had to pass through the room Dean was in on his way, and chose to ignore Dean, even when Dean glared at him and flipped him off as he passed.

 _Child_ , Castiel thought bitterly.

Dean’s thoughts and prayers took another turn as his brother and the angel headed off together, Sam driving Castiel’s car into Cawker City, a half hour drive from Lebanon. They would be meeting at a small, mostly quiet place called Corner Bar & Grill.

‘Why not just on some road side?’ Castiel asked, trying to block out all the rambling apologies Dean was now throwing his way.

‘Beats me. But according to Crowley, the chicken at this place is “sublime”.’

Castiel said nothing, and pulled out his phone. He sent Dean a simple message: _Save it_.

All he could hear now was Dean saying he was sorry, he didn’t mean it and he slept badly the night before, and could they talk?

After Dean got the message, Cas got one back: _Where are you going?_

Cas replied, _To meet Crowley._

_Where?_

_Corner Bar & Grill. In Cawker City. Drive fast you might catch up._

He finished the text with an emoji. He liked those and only didn’t use them when he was in a hurry or pissed off at someone. Here, he used one still showing he was pissed off. It was the dull face one with the mouth looking slightly like a frown and the eyes looking to the right with droopy eyebrows over it. The one between the emoji with no mouth and the one with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

He hoped Dean would get the message that he may be telling him where they were going, but he still wasn’t forgiving his asshole-ish behavior any time soon.

And no, they could not _talk._

Sam and Castiel didn’t talk much on the drive. Sam sensed he shouldn’t pursue a subject which Cas was obviously purposely avoiding, but he couldn’t help but be curious. He’d never known his brother to scream “fuck you” at anyone unless they’d done something _seriously_ bad. He’d never even known Dean and Cas to get in an actual fight before. Arguments, yes, and times where they beat the hell out of each other, but never a “fuck you” “no fuck you” kind of fight.

Crowley was sitting at the bar waiting for them when they arrived and the place was relatively quiet, as you would expect at this early time of day. He was picking at a plate of the chicken he’d called “sublime” and drinking something that looked fruity and had a tiny pitchfork in it. Silently, they took the seats next to him. Sam ordered two drinks.

‘Not eating, Moose?’ Crowley asked, as a way of greeting.

‘I’d rather keep this short.’

‘Come on. You have to eat something. You’re massive. You need to eat or you’ll pass out.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I _insist_. I’ll buy.’

Sam rolled his eyes frustrated and ordered “whatever he’s having” as he pointed at Crowley’s plate. Castiel remained silent. Crowley smiled.

‘Excellent. So,’ he began, addressing Castiel now, ‘is your boyfriend coming? I wouldn’t like to start without him.’

‘Dean will be here. And he’s not my –’

‘Not your boyfriend. So you keep saying.’

Crowley went silent and sipped his drink. Sam and Castiel exchanged a look. Castiel glanced at Crowley. He looked perfectly casual, as if this were an everyday occurrence.

‘Dean’s coming?’ Sam asked, to break the silence.

‘I assume so. I told him where we are.’

‘So how’ve you two been?’ Crowley asked, with an expression that looked almost smug. He received two unamused looks in return and his face fell. ‘Just trying to defuse the tension. We have to pass the time somehow. Why not with pleasant conversation? No? Fine. Let’s sit in silence.’

The tension seemed to build as the seconds went by. Sam’s food arrived, but he didn’t touch it until he sensed Crowley’s intense gaze flicking between him and the plate. Annoyed, Sam shoved some of it into his mouth make Crowley stop. Crowley nodded approvingly.

Sam wanted to challenge Crowley with an aggressive, ‘you think this is funny?’ but instead he turned towards Cas and said, ‘can you ask Dean how long he’ll be?’

‘You ask him,’ said Castiel curtly. ‘I’m still not talking to him.’

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Crowley asked in a sympathetic voice. He raised his eyebrows in response to the look he got. ‘If looks could kill.’

‘Then I would avoid looking at you and kill you in a more inventive way.’

‘Please. You’d never kill me. We’re practically besties at this stage. Like your _not_ boyfriend and I were once.’

‘You and I will never be friends, Crowley.’

‘Spoil sport.’

‘Has he replied yet?’ Castiel asked Sam, ignoring Crowley’s borderline flirty look.

‘No,’ said Sam. ‘When did you tell him where we were? He can’t be far if –’

As he was speaking he spotted Dean arriving. Cas turned just in time to see Dean slide into the seat next to him, and abruptly turned away. Dean was having none of that and reached out to grab his arm.

‘Cas, please –’

‘Dean, now is not the time.’

‘Not now, but later we’ve gotta –’

‘ _No_ , Dean.’

‘ _Please_ Cas –’

‘What is it about the word “no” that you don’t understand?’

‘The part where you’re being _unreasonable_ about this whole –’

‘SO, ABOUT THE FIRST BOOK,’ Castiel said loudly, so loudly that some startled people turned to stare as Crowley became the focus of Castiel’s attention.

Crowley’s eyebrows raised slowly and his head tilted to the side. Clearly, he’d heard of the book. A smirk began to play on his lips and then he grinned, wide, and laughed. Once he’d finished, he asked, ‘caught up, have you?’

‘Caught up?’ Dean asked.

‘Caught up to the fact that the only way you three are going to accept that there’s no way for you lot to stop Amara is by reading The First Book and seeing there’s only one way to stop her.’

Castiel frowned. Sam frowned in a similar way. Dean, who had been half way through taking a sip of Cas’s drink, chocked.

‘You what now?’

‘Well Squirrel, there’s no way in hell –’

‘Are you drinking my drink?’ Castiel demanded suddenly, turning towards Dean and cutting off Crowley completely.

‘Sorry,’ said Dean, placing it down and sliding it back towards Cas. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind. Probably should’ve asked you first, huh?’

‘What makes you think I would have said yes even if you’d asked?’

‘Well – uh –’

‘What makes you think I’ll _ever_ say yes to anything you ask ever again?’

‘Cas, buddy, it’s just a drink –’

‘That’s notthe _point_! You know what – you just – just take the whole damn thing – I don’t care, _I don’t care_ –’

Castiel stood up, and abruptly stormed out. Crowley let out a low whistle.

‘He _needs_ to sort out his priorities.’

Sam looked accusingly at Dean. Dean adopted a defensive expression.

‘I didn’t do anything!’

‘Clearly you did.’

‘Did no one get my reference?’ Crowley asked disappointedly. ‘Come on. It’s basic Harry Potter.’

‘I _didn’t_!’

‘Well, Cas certainly seems to think you did.’

‘Come on, guys. No judgmental looks?’

‘He’s delusional.’

‘Is he, Dean?’

‘No “really, Crowley? _Harry Potter? You?_ ’

‘Yes, he is!’

‘Well he doesn’t think so.’

‘It gets boring in hell, guys. And I can’t keep reading the kinky little fanfictions people write about you two and your pet angel forever.’

‘SHUT UP, CROWLEY,’ the brothers chorused.

‘There’s no need to shout,’ Crowley pouted.

‘You go deal with that,’ Sam demanded, pointing towards the door. ‘I’ll deal with this.’

Dean groaned and left without a word, looking almost like a moody teenager being made do chores he didn’t want to do. Sam turned back towards Crowley ready to get serious at last, wondering what in the name of God had happened between those two idiots outside.

‘Let me guess. They slept together and one of them never called the other in the morning.’

‘Focus, Crowley.’

‘Who d’you think tops? I’m one for top Cas personally, but there are some halfway decent fics where he bottoms –’

‘Crowley, I swear to God I will kill you _dead_ if you don’t _shut up_ and tell me what you meant about there being no way to stop Amara.’

‘Well that’s a contradiction, isn’t it? I can’t _shut up_ and _tell you stuff_ at the same time.’ He must have seen the fury in the look Sam gave him. ‘Alright. Alright. Well, that’s basically it. There is literally no way for you, or me, or the bickering couple out there to stop or kill Amara. Is that all?’

‘No, that is _not_ all. Have you read The First Book?’

‘Yes. I wouldn’t recommend it. Bit weird. The teenage sex in it is a little too graphic and it makes me cringe for the souls of both of those poor kids.’

‘What?’

‘And the _God_ sex – keep it in your pants, Lord. Please.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘The First Book.’

‘There’s sex in The First Book?’

‘Yes. It’s very detailed. And it has no shame. Although my favorite parts are all the ones about  … well, you’ll see if you’re smart enough to figure it out.’

Sam narrowed his eyes.

‘Do you have a copy?’

‘Of course I have a bloody copy.’

‘Can I borrow it?’

‘On one condition.’

Sam grimaced.

‘What condition?’

‘Tell me you’ve improved, Moose. _Please_.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Oh, you’ll find out. Be right back. Wait here.’

Sam watched as Crowley finished the last of his drink and headed off in the direction of the bathrooms. He frowned at the unusual conversation he’d just had, took a sip of his drink and ate some more of the meal he hadn’t wanted in the first place. It was cold. He pushed it away from him. Moments later, Crowley was back with a black box in his hands, which he pushed into Sam’s before hopping back onto his bar stool.

‘There you go. The combination to the lock is six six six nine. Enjoy.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’

Sam frowned, trying to read Crowley’s expression, but there was no reading into the genuine, almost _friendly_ look on his face.

‘So … if I leave now you’re not going to send any demons after me to take this back, are you?’

‘Aren’t you going to finish your chicken?’

‘It’s cold.’

‘What a shame. Don’t worry, I’ll finish it for you. See you later, Moose. It was good to see you.’

‘… Bye.’

Sam left with the box. At the door he paused and opened the lock, just to peek inside the box to conform there was a book in there. There was. He closed the box and locked it again and headed outside to the parking lot, to find Dean and Castiel leaning against their cars respectively. They were looking at each other from across the empty space that was between where the two cars were parked. When Sam and Cas had arrived, a car had been parked in the empty spot.

The gloomy looking duo didn’t notice Sam at first and he took the opportunity to try reading them. Dean looked apologetic. Cas looked … not forgiving. But like he was considering it, like Dean’s look was breaking down his wall of built up anger, but like if Dean did something to piss him off he’d be back furious with him in half a second.

‘I got the book,’ Sam announced as he approached, grabbing their attention. ‘Free of charge.’

‘Are you serious?’ asked Dean, raising his eyebrows as he walked to meet Sam half way, reaching out for the box which Sam handed to him.

‘Oh yeah, dead serious. He was oddly helpful but how annoying he was made up for that.’

‘Yeah, well, he’s Crowley. Let me guess,’ he asked, pointing at the lock, ‘sixty nine sixty nine?’

‘Six six six nine.’

‘Close enough.’

Dean unlocked the box and opened it and looked inside. The book was in there, alright. Black. Worn. Old. Blood stains on the cover. Castiel reluctantly wandered over to stand by Dean’s side to get a closer look at the book.

‘Should we …?’ he asked, reaching out towards it as if to open it.

‘Not here,’ said Dean. ‘Back home. Here.’

He handed the box back to Sam, who closed and locked it again.

‘So who’s driving?’ Sam asked, turning towards Cas. ‘Me or you?’

Cas hesitated a moment. He took a step away from Dean, then looked between him and Sam.

‘I think I’m actually going to ride … with Dean,’ he decided, speaking slowly, as if trying to stop himself from changing his mind half way through. ‘If you get back first just leave my keys where they always are.’

‘So you two made up?’ Sam asked brightly. The look between the two said otherwise. ‘So … I’ll … see you guys at home.’

Sam got into Cas’s car, while Dean and Cas climbed into the Impala. Before putting the keys in the ignition, Dean looked at Castiel apologetically. Again. Cas spoke before Dean could.

‘Dean, don’t.’

‘Fine.’

Dean started the car and turned the radio on. He didn’t have any of his tapes in so the crappy music that was playing on the radio filled the car loudly.

‘Could you turn it down?’ Castiel asked.

‘Ugh. Gladly. I thought this kid was finally gone but no, here he is, back again with more crappy music.’

Dean turned down the Justin Bieber song and looked hopefully at Castiel who showed no reaction to his words. Dean felt the disappointment setting in as the Bieber kid started to, ironically, sing, _is it too late now to say sorry?_

Dean turned it back up again. Castiel glared at him.

‘Stop apologizing to me, Dean.’

‘I’m not. Bieber is.’

‘Dean …’

‘I’m not stopping until you forgive me.’

‘I’m not forgiving you any time soon.’

‘I’m just not.’

‘Come on, Cas …’

‘Drive the car, Dean.’

‘Fine.’

Dean turned the music down and hit the accelerator.

For the first twenty minutes of the drive there was dead silence apart from the radio. Castiel didn’t know why he’d chosen to ride with Dean. They’d argued again after leaving the establishment in which they’d met Crowley. Dean had apologized for his attitude and yelling and praying mean things and Cas had, in turn, apologized for the thought he’d had about How to Get Away with Murder and using that to help him get away with killing Dean. Dean had looked mildly shocked that Castiel had had such a thought, but apologized again, with yet another excuse.

Dean didn’t and would never know why Castiel couldn’t accept all of those excuses. Because Castiel knew they were just that. _Excuses_. There were other things he knew, too, things that made it harder to forgive Dean for the petty, hurtful things he’d said.

Of course, he should have known they would hurt Cas, which made it even worse.

 _But how would he know?_ a little voice in the back of Castiel’s mind asked. _You’ve never told him._

Dean wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind. He _knew_.

 _But you and Dean are in the same boat,_ the voice informed him. _You both feel that no one really–_

‘I understand what no means,’ Dean said quietly.

‘I know,’ Cas muttered. ‘I just don’t understand why …’

‘Neither do I,’ said Dean. The sadness in his voice was evident. Castiel felt what he heard hurt him. He didn’t want this, for Dean to be upset. ‘Sometimes I just get … irrationally angry. Like you said.’

‘That’s not what I was talking about.’

‘Then what were you talking about?’

_It won’t mean anything._

‘Nothing.’

‘Please, Cas.’

_I promise._

‘Dean, I said _nothing_.’

‘Right. Nothing.’

Cas swallowed. He meant for it to be the end of the conversation. But Dean looked so … disappointed. Disappointing Dean Winchester was not something that was on his bucket list.

‘Maybe we could just forget it ever happened,’ Cas suggested, forcing himself to sound as casual as he wanted to sound which was almost the opposite of how he felt.

‘We could do that,’ Dean agreed with a sideward glance at Castiel who was determinedly looking out of the window. ‘Shake on it?’

Castiel turned to see Dean’s hand outstretched. He slowly extended his own hand and slid it into Dean’s. Dean’s grasp was firm, and warm.

Dean’s grasp had been firm and warm.

They shook on it.

‘So, we’re cool?’ Dean asked.

‘Yeah. We’re cool.’ I’m also dying inside because you don’t know, you don’t know a damn thing, but yeah, we’re cool.

Once they arrived back at the bunker Sam was already there, inside and immersed in The First Book. They sat next to him but he didn’t look up, simply turned a page and continued reading. The look of horror rooted somewhere in his eyes continued to grow as he read down the page and when he reached the end of it he slammed the book abruptly.

‘So, I take it that the book is in English, then,’ Dean commented.

‘Oh yeah. Plain English.’ Sam stood up, the book clutched to his chest. ‘I have to go. I’ll read the book. I’ll tell you guys if anything crops up.’

He left in a hurry, his walk turning into a half-run until he was gone from the room completely. Dean frowned after him. He went all the way to the door and looked around but Sam was already out of sight. Shrugging, he turned back towards Cas.

‘That was weird.’

‘Really? To me he seemed no different than usual. One of you is always running away from the other with no explanation.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Yes it is.’

Dean narrowed his eyes. Castiel looked matter-of-fact.

‘No it’s not.’

‘Yes it is. One of you lies to the other, you get pissed at each other, I attempt to clean up your mess and then something horrible happens to me or I just vanish for an unexplained and often unspecified amount of time and then I show up again to clean up another mess you two make and then the cycle repeats.’

Dean stared at him. That did sound awfully familiar. That made him deeply uncomfortable and he felt a shiver go up and down his spine that he tried to ignore.

‘Not this time,’ he asserted, staring at Castiel sincerely. ‘You’ve been through enough lately. From now on, we’ll clean up our own messes and you can sit back, relax and watch the hot lesbian show a third time.’

Cas rolled his eyes.

‘Dean, I don’t watch the show for the “hot lesbians”. I watch it for the interesting plot and the amusing characters. They’re all so amusing I find it difficult to pick a favorite.’

‘So … Alex?’

Activate Castiel pissed face.

‘Are you saying that because you think she’s hot?’

‘… Maybe …’

‘Alex is not in my top list of favorites.’

‘So, Piper. Wait, no, she’s a bitch – Stella?’

‘I like Big Boo,’ Cas stated. ‘And Poussey. And Taystee. And Red. And Daya. Oh, and Cindy. And –’

‘Okay, you can’t pick a favorite. Got it.’

Dean looked highly amused. Cas frowned more deeply.

‘You’re thinking about which one of the characters I listed is the hottest, aren’t you?’

‘No, man. Of course not.’

‘You’re a terrible liar.’

‘So are you.’

‘I’m not lying, Dean! I am not sexually attracted to any of those women!’

‘Whatever you say, buddy. Whatever you say.’

Dean wandered out of the room and Cas was quick to follow him in the direction of the kitchen. He was determined to make Dean listen to him.

‘I swear to my father, Dean. All of them are beautiful, yes, but I’ve never thought of any of them as “hot”. I just don’t see women that way.’

‘There was that one time when you said that April bitch was hot,’ Dean pointed out as they crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

‘I was agreeing with what _you_ said.’

‘Hey, you’re the one who had sex with her.’

‘At the time I didn’t realize saying no was an option. And if I was in the same situation now I wouldn’t say no either because she, an apparently human female, would most likely think I was rejecting her and then suggest it would be better if I left, which would lead to me being on the streets again, which is a lot worse than having sex with a strange woman who happens to be treating you with more kindness than many humans you’ve met have treated you with in the past.’

Dean had pie now and he looked impressed by Castiel’s reasoning. He nodded slowly and gestured the seat across from him and Cas, who was still standing, sat.

‘I like the way you think,’ said Dean. He nudged the pie into the space between them. ‘Pie?’

‘You know all food tastes like molecules to me,’ said Cas, before he really registered that Dean “don’t-touch-my-pie” Winchester had actually willingly offered to share his pie with another living being.

‘Didn’t you say to me once that drinking coffee actives the … uh … humany-ish parts of your … makes stuff not taste like molecules?’

‘That’s true. I did say that. I’ll make coffee. Would you like some?’

‘Yeah. Make it Irish.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s the middle of the day. You are not consuming alcohol for no reason in the middle of the day. I thought you were past your day-drinking phase.’

‘What in the name of God gave you that ridiculous idea?’

Cas gave Dean one of his “really, Dean?” looks before rising to his feet and heading over to make a pot of coffee.

‘I’ll put in cream but not whiskey.’

‘Spoil sport.’

‘Be lucky I’m even making you coffee at all. I’m still mad at you.’

‘Well, you could always spit in my cup.’

‘And give you the pleasure of ingesting my glorious, angelic saliva? In your dreams.’

‘Hey you know that’s funny – I _did_ dream about an angel last night. Except she was so much hotter than you and her wings were all white and fluffy and she threw them on the floor just before she wriggled out of that tight, tight little –’

‘Shut up, Dean.’

Grinning to himself and feeling better than he had since the incident last night, Dean got up to grab an extra fork. He leaned against the counter next to Cas. He was probably pushing his luck here with trying to bring forward some of that old classic Dean Winchester charm what with Cas being mad at him and all, but he’d be kicking himself if he didn’t at least try.

‘So, do you want me to get you a plate or are you cool with eating straight out of the box?’ he asked in a very flirtatious manor. If Cas noticed, he didn’t show it.

‘The box is fine.’

‘Great, great.’ He paused, watching Cas watch the coffee maker. ‘So. Not a fan of the good old boobies, huh?’

‘Not particularly. What exactly is so appealing about a jiggling ball of fat filled with mammary glands designed for the sole purpose of feeding infants?’

‘Uh … the nipples? I don’t know. You’ve got me there. Some people, me included, just dig boobs.’

‘Well, good for you.’ He leaned a little closer. Castiel found himself wishing the coffee maker would hurry up. ‘So. Is there anything you _are_ into that could get me a shot of whiskey in that coffee?’

Dean’s eyebrows waggled suggestively. Castiel was not amused.

‘Piss off, Dean.’

‘No. Seriously,’ Dean probed, ‘I hear you’re into guinea pigs. And I think good ol’ Google could help us locate a decent pet store nearby. I could hook you up – was that a smile?’

The smile Cas had let creep up on him dropped off far more rapidly than it had come.

‘No.’

‘That was a smile.’

‘No it wasn’t.’

‘Sure it wasn’t.’

‘No whiskey, Dean.’

‘Damn it. It was worth a shot.’

Dean headed back to the table as Cas poured the coffee, poured some cream from the fridge into Dean’s, and carried the mugs to the table. He slid Dean’s over to him and drank from his own immediately despite the burning heat. As soon as he’d done that, he put the coffee down, grabbed the other fork and made fast work of filling his mouth with as much pie as he could fit in it in one go. Dean looked impressed. He looked even more impressed when Cas swallowed without choking and then flashed Dean a sweet smile.

‘Something to say?’

‘Uh … n–no …’

Castiel smiled sweetly again.

‘Thank you for reminding me of this, Dean. I’ll be sure to drink coffee and eat pie more often.’

Dean missed a beat before replying. Castiel knew _exactly_ why.

 _Or you hope you know,_ whispered the small voice in his head.

‘Then … we’re gonna need more pie …’

‘Yes, I believe we are.’

Castiel continued this sort of behavior for the next three days although it was on and off. Dean could tell he was still mad and even though they’d said they were cool something was different, but he could deal with Castiel’s oddly sweet-ish behavior switching it up in a way that showed that Cas would be the King of Passive Aggressiva did such a country exist. He even started to sense patterns in when exactly the sudden mood swing would occur and tried his best to avoid the topics of conversation that caused it.

Meanwhile Sam rarely emerged from his room and when he did he barely spoke. Dean tried to talk to him on several occasions about working some jobs he’d found on the net but Sam brushed him off and suggested he work with Cas instead. So that’s what Dean did.

When Dean and Castiel were out working some pretty basic, non-Darkness related cases – a poltergeist, he thought Dean said the first time, then later a rouge vampire flying solo – Sam surfaced from the deep depths that was his bedroom to do some important research in relation to The First Book. He searched for hours without a break, but he always came up with nothing no matter how in depth his searches went. And he wasn’t even finished the book yet.

It took five days for Sam to finish the book. He read certain parts of it more than others and there were many things in the book that were written in plain English but they were plainly impossible to gather any meaning from. But there was one thing that plainly clear:

‘There is no way in hell that we can stop Amara.’

Sam declared it in front of Dean and Castiel who were sitting across from each other, Dean searching something up on his laptop and Cas pouring over multiple books of lore. They both looked up at him, startled at first, before the words sunk in.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Dean asked.

‘I mean that God only created one person besides himself that can stop his sister, and there’s no way to find her.’

‘And you’re sure about that?’

‘Well, I tried. Believe me. But I’m pretty sure she’s as impossible to find as God himself. Since she’s _seven different people_.’

‘That’s impossible,’ said Castiel, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘No one can be seven different people.’

Sam raised his eyebrows in a challenging fashion, picked up the book again and flicked through it until he found what he was looking for. He read the passage out clearly.

‘“The only one who will stop The Darkness will come in seven different forms. No two forms will look alike nor will any act in exactly the same manor. Each will have her own mesmerizing hold on her victim. None of the seven is the true form of The Savior, siren-like she will evolve to appeal to each of her seven victims. She will enchant them with her words and actions using them in some cases to lull them in a false sense of security. She may use a common interest, a common traumatic event or even a common goal. The last version of The Savior before her true manifestation will be known as The Holy One and she will work her charm over God himself before she moves on. She has hold over angels and demons alike and is not to be trusted by those who can resist her.’”

‘Give me that,’ Dean ordered, jerking the book out of his brother’s hands and locating the paragraph for himself.

Dean read through the paragraph twice, muttering it under his breath as he did. He looked blankly up at Sam as he pushed the book towards Cas for him to read for himself too.

‘So what?’ Dean asked, expecting Sam to know all the answers. ‘Are we supposed to find this “Savior” chick or will she just show up and take care of this Amara crap for us without us having to do anything?’

Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘Has it ever been that easy?’

Dean considered it for a moment. ‘I guess not.’

Castiel pushed the book away from him looking oddly pale which was unusual because Castiel was far from pale on a regular day.  Except for during Coliver scenes in How to Get Away with Murder. He looked oddly pale when watching those too.

‘Which angels?’ he asked, looking up at Sam. ‘Does it say?’

‘Not by name,’ Sam answered. ‘It mentions the Angel of Thursday, though.’

‘That’s Cas,’ said Dean immediately.

Castiel looked at Dean oddly.

‘How do you know that?’

‘I’ve known you seven years,’ Dean pointed out. ‘You don’t think in all that time I bothered to look you up?’

‘Seriously?’ Sam asked, sounding disbelieving.

‘You _didn’t_ look him up?’ Dean asked, even more disbelieving than Sam was.

‘I know that in the Bible he’s referred to as Cassiel, but –’

‘Gabriel,’ Cas muttered.

‘Gabriel?’ Sam questioned.

‘He used to call me that in our early days. Only it was C _ass_ iel. Sort of like how Metatron calls me “Asstiel”, only Gabriel’s was more of a fun brotherly jest. That just so happened to make it into the Bible.’

Dean turned his laugh into a cough. Castiel glared at him. He didn’t glare at Sam who also looked entertained.

‘It must really suck to have your childhood nickname put in the freakin’ _Bible_ ,’ Dean commented.

‘We were never children,’ Castiel corrected him with a highly unamused frown. ‘It was merely the early days of our existence.’

‘I know,’ Dean rushed to confirm, ‘it was just a joke, Cas.’

‘Make better jokes,’ Castiel replied coolly.

‘So it seems like you two are still pissed at each other,’ Sam put in as he surveyed them both. He hadn’t been around much since getting the book so he hadn’t observed them enough to take in their attitudes towards each other.

‘No, we’re not,’ Castiel stated firmly. ‘Dean’s jokes just aren’t funny.’

‘Sorry,’ Dean added meekly with an apologetic glance at Cas.

‘It’s fine.’

Sam pulled a face. At least they weren’t fighting anymore. He wondered if they’d been this snippy with each other when working together.

‘So are you two ready to talk about what happened between you, or –?’

The speed at which they both snapped ‘nothing happened’ at him in defensive voices startled him.

‘The past is in the past,’ Dean proclaimed, looking across at Castiel with a very formal look. ‘Right?’

‘Don’t quote the movie that child was watching at me.’

‘What child?’ asked Sam.

‘The kid of this guy we talked to about a vamp attack. She was watching some movie the whole time we were talking to her dad,’ Dean explained.

‘It seemed interesting,’ Cas pondered. ‘If you like ice.’

‘You mean Frozen?’

Another non-verbal exchange between Dean and Cas with matching shrugs answered Sam’s question.

‘Blonde chick in a blue dress singing about letting it go. That song that was all over the damn radio last Christmas,’ said Dean.

‘You mean Frozen,’ Sam established.

‘How the hell do you even know that?’

‘It’s been all over the place for about two years. Walk into a shop and there’s a Frozen version of basically everything. How have you not seen it all?’

‘It hasn’t been on pie,’ Dean shrugged.

‘So do either of you want to read the book?’ Sam asked, swiftly changing the subject.

‘Me,’ said Dean quickly, then glanced quickly at Castiel and added, ‘if Cas doesn’t mind.’

‘I’ll read it after you,’ Castiel replied indifferently. ‘It’s not the first book I’ve been in. I can wait.’

‘Cas, it’s literally the _first_ book you’re in.’

‘Well then it’s not the _only_ book I’m in. You can read it. I’ll use my time to finally watch Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix.’

Dean’s eyebrows would’ve shot through the roof if they weren’t attached to his face.

‘You’re watching Grey’s Anatomy?’

‘I’m going to.’

‘You are _not_ watching that without me.’

‘Isn’t that the show that “Doctor Sexy” thing was ripping off?’ Sam interjected.

‘Yeah,’ Dean hurriedly responded. ‘Shonda – Grey’s creator – saw an episode of Doctor Sexy M.D. about a year ago and sued the show and got it canceled. And Greys Anatomy is _so much better_. And there’s some guy in it in the early seasons who looks exactly like dad.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. And there’s a younger Metatron in one episode. And there’s a Linda Tran lookalike in there too. And more lookalikes I think, but I haven’t watched it in a while.’

‘Kinda like that guy from Gilmore Girls who looks exactly like me?’

‘Yeah, like that.’

‘Gilmore Girls …’ Cas muttered, frowning to himself for a moment. He looked at Dean. ‘I’ve heard of that. Perhaps I’ll watch that while I wait for you to finish The First Book and then we can watch Grey’s Anatomy together.’

‘For real?’ Dean asked. He grinned in response to Cas’s shrug. ‘I’ll start reading right now.’

Dean left with the book tucked under his arm. There was a new spring in his step which greatly amused Sam and even made Castiel, who had forgotten about Dean laughing at his old nickname and was now back thinking perfectly friendly thoughts about him, smile.

‘So, speaking of Christmas,’ Sam said randomly.

‘We were speaking of Christmas?’ Cas questioned bewilderedly.

‘It was briefly mentioned by Dean, remember?’

‘Oh. Yes. What about it?’

‘Have you ever actually … celebrated it before? Is there a thing angels do? It’s a religious holiday after all.’

‘It was never intended to be a religious holiday,’ Cas rectified. ‘It began as the winter solstice festival. Humans made it into a religious holiday.’

‘So you’ve never celebrated it? Like the human way?’

Cas paused, thinking back over the seven years he’d been involved with the Winchesters. There had been seven Christmases, the one coming up in a few weeks being the eighth, and he couldn’t even recall a single mention of the holiday. In fact, he usually forgot that it was happening. Sam and Dean never seemed to celebrate it.

‘I don’t believe I have,’ said Castiel quietly, after his consideration. ‘Why?’

Sam shrugged. ‘I was thinking of getting a tree. Maybe some tinsel. I was thinking maybe you’d like to tag along.’

Castiel tilted his head to the side, a slight smile gracing his features as he thought about it.

‘That would be … nice.’

Sam’s smile, rarely seen, was bright. Cas felt a shiver of happiness seeing the younger Winchester’s happiness displayed so blatantly on his face.

‘Great. We could go today. We could go _now_.’

Cas grinned. ‘I’d like that. Should I go tell Dean?’

Shaking his head, Sam’s smile was mischievous.

‘Let’s surprise him with the stuff when we get back. Just us for now. Let’s go.’

As the two prepared to leave, they had no idea that off in Dean’s bedroom, Dean’s mind was being blown.


	10. The First Book, Part Two

_‘Now?’ Dean pleaded, staring at his best friend in disbelief. ‘You have to go_ now _?’_

_‘It’s my mum,’ she said with strain in her voice. ‘She’s in trouble. We’ve gotta go.’_

_‘But what about my dad?’_

_‘I’m sorry, Dean. We both are.’_

Dean ran out in search of Sam and Castiel, but they were nowhere to be found. In their place was a note reading ‘Gone out for milk.’ It was written in Sam’s writing. Why did _both_ of them need to go out just to get some milk? Then again, maybe it was a good thing they were both out. What exactly had Dean been planning on saying anyway? Glancing around him in a state of sudden paranoia, he dashed back to his bedroom and locked the door.

Sam took one of the spare cars they had in the parking lot of the bunker. There were a few from various occasions where they couldn’t use the Impala on cases and had to steal a car to drive. He made sure to pick one of the ones with a spacious trunk and he double checked there were no weapons still laying around in it.

‘Do you think this is big enough to fit lots of stuff?’ Sam asked, turning to Castiel who had been wondering what Sam was doing. ‘I want to get a _huge_ tree. It probably won’t even fit in the car, hold up, I’ll go get some rope so we can buy a rack too and tie it to the roof …’

Sam left and returned soon after with a large length of rope which he threw in the trunk. Castiel continued to watch him. Sam stepped back looking satisfied and closed the trunk.

‘How exactly are you planning to pay for “lots of stuff”?’ Castiel asked. ‘It’s not as though anyone pays for the killing of monsters.’

‘I know we usually pay cash to avoid leaving a trail,’ said Sam, ‘but we still have a few stolen credit cards that I don’t think can be traced back to us. It’s not exactly honest, but it’s Christmas. We need _stuff._ ’

‘What kind of stuff?’ Cas asked.

Sam shrugged. ‘We’ll figure it out when we get there.’

‘Get where, exactly?’

‘I don’t know. Google good places close by. I’m sure there’s somewhere.’

Castiel pulled out his phone.

There was absolutely fucking nowhere. Not in Lebanon, not in Cawker City, not in Glen Elder, not in anywhere nearby.

‘So what now?’ Castiel asked.

Sam thought for a moment. He looked as though he was deliberating something. It was obvious at what point he made up his mind due to the expression on his face.

‘We’ll go to Ikea.’

‘ _Where_?’

‘It’s a store, Cas,’ Sam replied with an amused sort of chuckle. ‘It’s where Dean and I got our mattresses and some other stuff when we first found this place. Only problem is, it’s four hours away, so we’ll probably have to make this a two day trip.’

‘A two day trip for “milk”?’

‘I’ll call Dean in a half hour, say we saw yesterday’s paper in the store and there was something that looked like a case in it so we decided to take a look.’

‘Do you think he’ll buy it?’

‘He’ll probably be in his room reading for a week. He’ll buy it.’

Castiel made a face that showed he agreed, so the two of them hopped into the car. Cas looked over at Sam, who had a very cheerful face on indeed, which confused him. He had _never_ seen Sam this happy. Nor had he any idea that Sam was this passionate about Christmas. Surely with a passion and enjoyment of the holiday this big it would have been mentioned before? Then there was the whole matter of The First Book – surely there was so much more to be told from it than just the passage about The Savior, and shouldn’t they be doing something about that? Or had Sam decided they’d just wait for The Savior to show up? _Why wasn’t Sam talking about the book?_

But Castiel told himself to be quiet. He wasn’t going to ask about it, he was just going to enjoy time with his friend who was actually genuinely cheerful for once. When was the last time he’d been even been close to happy? He remembered it was the night Cas got his grace back, met Charlie, then they all had pizza … that was fun.

It wasn’t in Castiel’s nature to just let himself not think about anything related to anything dark and mysterious and evil, but since Sam had invited him on a trip to do something related to nothing of the sort, he might as well _try_ and enjoy it. Relax, chill out, just as if he were watching Netflix while pouring over some lore. Except without the lore. And with Sam, instead of alone or with Dean.

Cas had never spent an extended period of time in a car alone with Sam when they weren’t planning something behind Dean’s back. He supposed this time was no different, but at least they were actually planning something that was relatively normal and didn’t involve, say, going to a psychic atheist’s house and then breaking into heaven to kidnap Metatron. So this was a whole new experience and the lack of tension and suspense in the air was almost weird.

They drove in a comfortable silence for a while. The silence wasn’t a complete silence as the radio played the role of the background noise, but it was nice. After a while Cas got curious.

‘Do you and Dean usually celebrate Christmas?’

Sam thought for a moment before shaking his head.

‘No. Not since we were kids if you don’t count this one time where we _kinda_ celebrated … and killed some pagan gods. But usually we don’t have time or don’t really notice because we’re too busy with something or other.’

‘Then why choose to celebrate it now?’

‘Things are just less hectic than usual,’ Sam shrugged. ‘Sure, there’s The Darkness, now The First Book, but none of us are dead, dying, possessed, marked, or in the middle of some demonic deal. So it’s about time we get to do something normal for once.’

‘That makes sense.’

Sam nodded in agreement, then looked at Cas and saw he looked like he was still his usual over-thinking self. Now, that wouldn’t do. An idea struck Sam almost immediately which made him grin yet again. Cas _needed_ to experience something normal for once in his life, in fact Sam did too, and since Sam was the one who knew how to create something normal despite never having these normal experiences himself, it was on him to do this.

He was going to show Cas what it was like to go on a fun trip with a friend. No monsters, no hunting, just two guys hanging out and doing some Christmas shopping.

‘Hey, you know Hot Topic?’

It was the first clothes store that came into his head.

‘Of course. Dean and I went there on Claire’s birthday.’

‘Great. See if there’s one in Merriam. If not, check for one in Kansas City. That’s just about fifteen minutes way from Merriam if I remember right.’

Cas pulled out his phone and did a quick search. He showed Sam the address.

‘Kansas City,’ he informed him.

‘Great,’ Sam replied, ‘screenshot it in case I forget the address.’

They continued on in moderate silence for another few miles, apart from Sam’s quick call to Dean announcing they were heading across state for a case, but as things began to feel more relaxed and more natural, like they weren’t people with completely abnormal lives forcing themselves to be normal, things got more fun. They started to discuss different things they’d watched or were watching on Netflix, including a debate about whether they’d see Ruby Rose back on Orange Is The New Black on season four. They even started singing along to songs on the radio that they both knew which was a completely new experience for Cas because he’d honestly never sung anything in his life unless you counted that lullaby to that kid he babysat that one time, or that one shocking time he caught himself singing along to the Orange Is The New Black theme song under his breath. He didn’t know what it was about that show, but he felt like he could rewatch it a thousand times and never get bored. It was so … fascinatingly human. And he was also glad that the reason Sam watched it wasn’t for all the “hot chicks” which was the reason Dean watched, which Dean made abundantly clear any time it was brought up.

By the time they reached Kansas City four hours later, Castiel was thoroughly loosened up and greatly enjoying this whole “normal” thing.

It was a little after 4pm and already growing dark and it felt good to get out into the outdoor chill after so long in the car. Once out, Sam double checked in his wallet he had all of (not) his credit cards. Once he was sure he had, he and Cas headed into Hot Topic.

‘At least I know the name of it this time,’ Castiel commented. ‘Last time I called it “The Hot Topical.” It would be foolish of me to not know the name of a shop upon my second visit there.’

They had come, Sam revealed, for Christmas Sweaters. Unfortunately, there were hardly any. Luckily, there was something called an Ugly Christmas Sweater Kit, which seemed like it would be fun, so they got three. And then a sweater that was The Nightmare Before Christmas themed and covered in small Jack Skellingtons. Cas chose it, saying they should get it for Dean, because Dean probably wouldn’t be the type for ugly Christmas sweaters but the thing was Christmassy enough to just about suffice.

‘Okay, we’ll get it, but we’re still making Dean wear whatever he makes from the kit on actual Christmas day,’ Sam said firmly.

That wasn’t the only thing Castiel insisted upon getting for Dean. He also grabbed three different AC/DC shirts which he was sure Dean didn’t have.

‘Dean would never go shopping for himself, and it’s Christmas after all,’ was his reasoning.

Sam nodded in agreement, but was actually wondering why Cas wanted to get Dean so much stuff since he, apparently, was still pissed at Dean. He shrugged it off though.

And then … they saw it. _The Supernatural section._ Well, let’s just say, they got more than one of almost everything there, even things geared specifically towards females. (Man, whoever owned those credit cards was gonna have a hefty bill.) Sam laughed himself silly and declared that he was buying Dean Supernatural themed panties as a joke Christmas present.

‘But why would it be a joke to buy him underwear?’ Castiel had asked confusedly.

Sam, who was still laughing, managed to choke out, ‘because they’re women’s underwear, Cas.’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Well … they’re for women.’

‘But they’re just an article of clothing. Clothes have no gender. They’re pieces of fabric made so that the wearer is not naked.’

Laughing even more at the fact that Cas just didn’t get it, Sam shook his head and said, ‘yeah, but Dean won’t see it that way.’ After a pause, he thoughtfully added, ‘although you do have a point about the clothes having no gender thing.’

When they got to the checkout, the woman smiled and asked, ‘big Supernatural fans?’ and then added, ‘nice cosplays by the way. If you ask me, I prefer Cas’s old look. The Sam hair and the Cas eyes really set the whole thing off by the way. You guys could totally play them in a movie!’

Sam smiled awkwardly throughout the entire checkout process. Castiel was completely blank faced.

‘Seems like those Supernatural books are a whole lot more popular than we thought,’ Sam said as they left the store.

‘It certainly seems so,’ Castiel agreed, then, in a manor that was quite unusual for Cas, he grinned and declared, ‘I can’t wait to try on all these shirts.’

Sam raised his eyebrows. He’d never seen Cas wear anything other than his usual suit and trench coat outfit for an extended period of time apart from that time after that whole attack dog spell incident when he borrowed a t-shirt and some sweats from Dean at Dean’s insistence saying they were “better recovery clothes.”

It was late into the evening by the time they were finished, so Sam suggested they find somewhere to grab dinner (that served coffee of course, so Cas could eat something if he felt like it) and then find somewhere to spend the night, ready for the Christmas shopping and drive home the next day.

There was a motel about ten minutes away where they checked in and got a twin room. Once they got there Sam looked up places to eat nearby. None of them seemed particularly healthy, which was Sam’s preference, but then he realized something he hadn’t actually thought of until that moment: this was basically a _vacation_. Or as close to one as a Winchester got.

‘Screw it,’ he decided. ‘Let’s go wild. McDonalds or Wendy’s?’

Cas frowned. ‘What’s the difference?’

Sam grinned a small grin. ‘I guess there isn’t much of one. Let’s go to McDonald’s though. What’s a vacation without McDonalds?’

‘This a vacation?’ Cas asked, a little taken aback.

Sam slapped his friend on the back. ‘Yeah, Cas. This is a vacation. Enjoy it. They don’t come along often. Now before we go … time for a change of clothes.’

When they left for McDonalds, they were both wearing Supernatural merchandise.

‘This is quite ridiculous,’ said Cas, looking down at himself, although he had a very positive look on his face. He was sporting a shirt that said “Saving People, Hunting Things, The Family Business” and it bore the anti-possession mark. He also had on a necklace that said “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.” And then, hidden in his shoes, Supernatural socks. He had also swapped out his plain phone case for a Supernatural one.

Similarly, Sam was wearing a shirt that was like a business add for “The Family Business” and it had a picture of the Impala on it. To accessorize, he had a “Team Free Will” beanie on (‘I think I look good in a beanie,’ he said as he looked at himself in the mirror) and a multi-charm necklace. He too was wearing Supernatural socks.

McDonalds wasn’t particularly crowded. They ordered two Big Mac Meals and a coffee for Cas, which he drank quickly before digging to his meal. He had never really bothered to eat before since he didn’t require it to survive, but over the past few days Dean (probably trying to get back on Cas’s good side permanently) had been offering and sharing a lot and boy, had Cas been missing out. He had stuff he’d had as a human that he missed and stuff that was completely new, like the McDonalds, and each new taste experience was as mind blowing as the last. On this occasion, for example, he found out he was one of the people who picked off the pickles.

The McDonalds was so good that they got seconds, plus milkshakes and McFlurrys, plus another coffee (just in case) to take with them as they headed back to the motel. Then came something neither one was used to: time to be spent in a motel where no research of any sort into any case was required. At first they were unsure of what to do, then they decided to sort out all the stuff they’d bought and try some more of it on. Cas tried on every single shirt he’d gotten for himself, which was _every single shirt_ , including ones made for females only, since at the time he hadn’t realized and now he knew he didn’t care. The larger sizes fit him just fine anyway. He even convinced Sam to try some of them on, although they were tight on him. Either way, tight or not, they both took a lot of pictures of each other. Sam’s absolute ultimate favorite picture of the night was the one of Cas in the girl’s thermal anti-possession sleep set, clutching a Charlie string doll in one hand and a Dean one in the other, although the one of him in the dress-version of his own outfit was a close second.

After their miniature fashion show and photoshoot, they both picked out something to wear for the night. Cas opted straight for the “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition” shirt which he paired with red pajama pants covered in black and white anti-possession sigils while Sam went for a Castiel tank top (extremely tight and barely went past his belly button) and gray “hunter’s checklist” pajama pants.

Next they decided to sit on one bed and watch Netflix on Cas’s phone for a while. Sam had the bright idea of watching Gilmore Girls, which he hadn’t watched in forever and they got through quite a few episodes of it. Every time Dean came on screen they would laugh through the entire screen, Sam repeating ‘the fact that his name is Dean makes me _so uncomfortable_ ,’ while Cas took a thousand screenshots per second.

‘Who _is_ that guy?’ Cas wondered out loud.

‘I found out a few years ago actually,’ said Sam. ‘Remember back when Balthazar sent Dean and me to that alternate universe where we like … actors?’

‘I can recall it.’

‘Okay, so I looked up all of us. Fake me, fake Dean, fake you, and they’re all real people. They just don’t star in Supernatural so they’re not as well-known as they were, or we were, in that other universe. But guy there in Gilmore Girls is Jared Padalecki, also known as “fake me” to us.’

‘I wonder how Jared would feel if he knew he looked like the great Sam Winchester,’ Castiel speculated contemplatively.

‘Horrified, I expect,’ Sam jested.

Sam went to bed around midnight. Cas, who didn’t sleep, stayed awake, in the dark, watching a few more episodes, using his new Supernatural earbuds to avoid waking Sam. When his phone battery dropped to fifty he decided to shut it off altogether (he had no charger) to save the battery. He climbed under the covers of the bed, then grabbed the Charlie and Dean dolls off of the ground where he’d left them. He stared at them in the dark.

He started at the Dean doll first.

 _Come on, Cas,_ it whispered. _It won’t mean anything. I promise._  

Castiel swallowed. He was over it. Sure, when Dean made some stupid joke or said something controversial Cas got unnaturally butthurt over it, but for the most part he was over the events of the night of the Netflix binge. He was stupid, Dean was stupid, and Dean had said stuff not knowing why they would hurt Cas more than they should have. If only there was someone Cas could talk to about it. He glanced over at Sam’s large silhouette, the mound rising and falling evenly in sleep.

Perhaps … but no. They were having such a good time. Castiel didn’t want to burden him. And it would be weird. Sam was Dean’s brother and that wouldn’t do.

Then he looked down at the Charlie doll. Now, Charlie, he wouldn’t be burdening with this. Charlie would probably have forced him to spill the very moment she saw Dean and Cas fighting. Charlie would understand it all. Charlie would know exactly why Cas had felt hurt the way he had. He had told Charlie things he’d never told others in his life.

He missed Charlie. A lot. They’d been much closer than Sam and Dean had seen. They’d talked about a lot of things together, taken a lot of selfies (that was where Cas had actually learned the word “selfies”) and just been … close. They probably would have been best friends if they had gotten to be close outside of things relating to The Book of the Damned, translating it and other mark related things.

Charlie would have been fun on this trip. Charlie would have liked the things they’d gotten at Hot Topic. Charlie _loved_ the Supernatural books.

‘You’re here in a way, Charlie,’ Cas muttered to the tiny string doll on the pillow beside him. Then he felt an unexpected dampness on his cheek which he realized was a tear, which was odd, because he _never_ cried.

Oh, great. Trust his first ever vacation, which was supposed to be fun, to make him _cry._

Then again, it’s not like this out of character action was all that surprising. He’d been out of character since hopping into the car with Sam in the first place.

Castiel shut his eyes tight and forced himself to remember every word of every page of every book that Metatron had put into his head and keep going until he lost track of all time and the next thing he knew was Sam lightly shaking his shoulder in the morning, because somehow he’d been reading to himself in his head all night, the Charlie doll right next to his face, the Dean doll clutched in his fist and his pillow now dry from the dampness that had been transferred from cheek to fabric earlier in the night.

‘It’s morning?’ Cas asked, frowning up at Sam and the sudden light. He had been as close to sleep as an angel could get, completely zoned out and unaware of his surroundings.

‘Yeah, eight thirty. If it’s too early for you –’

‘No, no. I was just reading. In my head.’

‘You can do that?’

‘Yes. It’s not difficult with a brain capacity and memory like mine.’

Sam looked impressed. ‘That’s pretty cool. Anyway, just thought I’d make sure you’re okay. You looked a little dead.’

‘I’m not dead,’ Castiel stated. ‘Not last time I checked.’

‘Good. Let’s keep it that way. I’m gonna take a shower, then I was thinking we could head down to breakfast. It’s complimentary in this place.’

‘That sounds … good.’

‘Great.’

Sam headed off towards the bathroom. Castiel got out of bed and started to go through the clothes on the ground in search of something to wear. He didn’t feel like going back to his usual everyday outfit just yet. Today he went for a “love me some pie” shirt that had a picture of a  “Dean faceclaim” that actually loomed exactly like Dean on it, his usual (and only) pants, a Supernatural watch, a different pair of Supernatural socks, and an anti-possession pom-beanie. It turned out that Sam wasn’t the only one that looked good in a beanie. He also threw on the same necklace as yesterday and a “Team Free Will” rubber bracelet. He had a very strong urge to instead wear a dress version of his usual outfit with a small white winged bow in his hair since in his own, and in Sam’s, opinion last night he had looked damn good in that dress, but society probably wouldn’t deem that very acceptable.

Sam, when he came out, donned his own one of the shirt Cas had worn to McDonalds, plus the same accessories and beanie as he himself had worn there. Breakfast for the two of them was a quick, simple affair and Cas discovered he really really liked strawberry jam.

And then with all of their stuff back in the shopping bags they’d been put in when purchased, they headed out to the car with their sights set on Ikea.

It wasn’t until he was in the car that Castiel remembered his phone was off and he switched it back on again to surprisingly find two missed calls and seven texts from Dean, five of those texts being in relation to The First Book, one inquiring as to whether the reason Cas wasn’t answering was because he’d become angry about “the other night” again and then another simply wishing Cas a pleasant rest-of-the-night. These had all been sent after 3am, which made Castiel wonder why Dean had been up so late. Or maybe unusually early.

The texts, in this order, read:

_Cas I’m in this book_

_I need to ask you something about someone in the book_

_Something weird is going on with this thing_

_Text me back, this is important_

_This book is freaking me out_

_Are you angry about the other night again? Answer your phone_

_Okay fine have a good night or whats left of it. I’ll try Sam tomorrow when he’ll be awake if you don’t call back by 12_

Castiel rolled his eyes. He texted Dean back:

 _Don’t call Sam. We’ll talk when we get back later today. Stop freaking out_ (eyes rolling/looking up emoji, ghost emoji.)

He got no reply in a ten minute period so he assumed Dean was asleep after his late night texting antics and freaking out over the book. He wondered what exactly about it was freaking Dean out since Sam seemed completely fine.

When they arrived at Ikea they were disappointed to find that there were no decent looking trees. They had one type: an artificial tree modeled on a real one with skinny branches that just looked _sad._ The good news was that they only found out because they overheard some women complaining about it and then announcing they were just going to go buy a tree at Home Depot.

‘I _told_ you they have everything there,’ one of the women stressed as she threw her arm around the other.

‘I guess we know what out next stop is,’ said Sam.

They may not have been able to get a tree at Ikea, but they got enough decorations to cover ten. Or twenty Baubles, wooden bells, snowmen, beads, tinsel, lights, you name it and they got it. They got a gold star for the top out of a choice of gold and silver and he joked that maybe Ikea didn’t sell angels for the tops of trees since there was an angel shopping for the decorations.

‘I don’t think anyone here knows I’m angel, Sam,’ Castiel said very seriously.

‘It was a joke, Cas,’ Sam explained.

‘Oh …’

Then Cas grinned, laughing a small laugh at the joke which now he understood and did find rather humorous.

They practically cleaned them out on decorative lighting too, and then Sam decided he wanted to buy a whole load of Christmas themed cooking and dining equipment because he had taken it upon himself to also try and cook Christmas dinner.

‘Do you even know how to cook?’ Cas asked curiously.

‘Not a clue. But the internet has always been a good teacher before, I doubt it’ll fail me now.’

After some forethought Cas asked slowly: ‘could I help?’

‘The more the merrier,’ Sam replied with a grin.

Then they loaded up on candles and then wrapping paper and gift bags which they’d use to wrap all the stuff they’d gotten Dean at Hot Topic, plus whatever extra stuff they grabbed in stores around Merriam because apparently Sam had gone completely insane. And Cas _liked_ it.

Paying for their stuff was certainly fun. The young man who worked at the registers certainly seemed shocked by the quantity of stuff they were buying.

‘Decorating Hogwarts?’ he asked jokingly.  

It took Cas a moment to get the joke, but when he did, he was laughing along with Sam in no time.

And then the young man asked if it was their first Christmas as a couple. Castiel was about to reply that they weren’t in fact a couple, but Sam took control and threw his arm around Cas, telling the young man that yes actually, it was and that they’d actually just gotten married last week and were very excited about it. Which led to them getting a 10% discount.

On the way out to the car Cas asked, ‘did you know he would give us a discount if we pretended to be married?’

‘Nope,’ Sam said merrily, ‘that was just an added bonus.’

‘And why _did_ you say that we’re married?’

‘Because going along with things is more fun than correcting people. Come on, don’t pretend that us being married wouldn’t be the greatest thing ever.’

‘Perhaps. But Dean would be jealous.’

‘Dean has his pie. Don’t worry about Dean. As long as he’s got pie he’s happy.’

Cas laughed. It was getting much easier to laugh at things. He felt like he was loosening up a whole lot, more than he’d ever loosened up before, even more so than he had during his short stretch as a human. He liked this feeling. Is this what it was like to do normal things with a normal friend who you could pretend you met at a grocery store or library or something rather than because you pulled his brother out of hell?

‘Yes, Cas, I think it is,’ Sam replied when Cas voiced his thought out loud.

With their purchases filling the trunk and some of the back seat, they headed off to Home Depot which was barely five minutes away.

They got a tree called “7.5 ft. Wesley Mixed Spruce Quick-Set Artificial Christmas Tree with 650 Clear Lights” and tied it to the roof of the car using the rope and also a handy roof rack they picked up in store too.

They made sure not one area of the car was empty when they left Home Depot, filling up the rest of the back seat with more decorations. Figurines, table decorations, a skirt for the tree (which Cas figured out the concept of without asking Sam about trees wearing clothes) and a whole bunch of wreathes. And mistletoe. A whole load of mistletoe. Most of it was artificial so Sam didn’t go for that, instead he got ten mistletoe selfie sticks which he’d just take the mistletoe off of and hang in doorways instead.

‘I thought the thing with mistletoe was that you have to kiss whoever you’re under it with,’ Castiel said with a frown.

‘It is, why?’

‘What’s the point if it’s just you, me and Dean in the bunker?’

‘The point is that no place is complete without mistletoe at Christmas. We’ll just figure it out as we go. Create a time table of who can go through what door when so none of us accidentally meet under the stuff. Satisfied?’

‘Yes, I believe so.’

Lastly, they stopped at a bunch of stores ad bought even more stuff. They hit up Russel Stover Candies and Party City, and also almost every clothes store they spotted where they made it their mission to get the most ridiculous looking clothes as possible, which they planned to wrap hopefully forget about so when unwrapping all the stuff would be a surprise.

They went to Walmart and picked up even more useless junk there. And then they went to the Mall. They decided that maybe that should be their last stop of else they’d run out of room and be unable to fit in the car.

So, with a car full of crap and a roof full of tree, it was time to undertake the four hour journey home.

Dean was waiting for them the second they got in with The First Book clutched in his arms. He almost dropped the thing when he saw them.

‘What the hell are you two wearing?’

Sam folded his arms and looked highly offended.

‘What, you’ve never seen someone wear their own merchandise before?’

‘Merchandise …’ He looked at Cas’s shirt. ‘Is that guy supposed to be me?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied proudly.

‘He looks nothing like me,’ Dean stated.

‘He looks exactly like you,’ Cas retorted.

‘I’ll second that,’ said Sam, ‘the tag said it was someone’s “Dean face claim”. And it’s Jensen Ackles. You do remember who Jensen Ackles is, don’t you?’

‘No?’

‘It’s fake you. From that time Balthazar sent us to an alternate reality of some kind and we were both actors?’

‘Oh, yeah. What the fuck?’

‘Those actors are real people,’ Sam explained, ‘and people just happen to think Jensen looks like how Dean is described. He also just happens to look exactly like you.’

‘He does not look exactly like me,’ Dean said firmly, glowering at Cas’s shirt. ‘I’m _way_ hotter than that.’

‘All you can see is his head.’

‘Well, my head is way hotter than his head then.’

‘Sure.’

‘Where the hell _were_ you guys?’

Sam and Cas looked at each other and tried to resist the urge to start laughing. Instead, Sam just turned around and walked out. Dean frowned, looking at Cas expectantly. Cas turned away watched Sam walk away.

‘Follow us, I guess’ Cas said with a shrug.

Cas turned and followed Sam and heard Dean following behind him. They walked in silence until they got to the car, which was when Sam finally turned around, spread his arms and declared a loud ‘Merry Christmas!’

They were expecting a dropping of his jaw, or a confused look, or a ‘what?’ but Dean just stared. And then stared some more. He looked from Sam to Cas to the tree on top of the car. He looked as though he knew exactly what was going on.

‘Seriously?’ he said eventually. He was still holding The First Book.

‘Seriously what?’ Sam asked.

‘A Christmas Tree? Seriously? _Seriously_?’

‘And again, seriously _what_?’

‘You hate Christmas.’

‘No, I hat _ed_ Christmas. But Christmas of oh-seven was kinda nice. You got me shaving cream.’

‘So you decided to get a Sam-sized Christmas Tree?’

‘It’s a foot taller than I am, actually.’

‘And we also got decorations,’ Cas added.

‘And presents,’ said Sam.

‘And ugly Christmas sweater kits.’

Dean’s eyebrows pulled together in a half grimace and half frown.

‘But why?’

Sam shrugged.

‘It’s Christmas. We’ve got nothing else to do. The book says we can’t stop The Darkness, so why not do something normal for once, right Cas?’

‘Right,’ Cas agreed. ‘And I’ve never celebrated Christmas before, so Sam thought it was time I got to.’

It looked like it was taking quite a lot of thinking for Dean to comprehend what was happening. This was certainly new. But was it bad new? Not really. It was just Christmas. And Dean was the one who had pushed Sam into celebrating Christmas the year it was “kinda nice”.

Huh. Maybe this wasn’t such a dumb idea.

‘Okay, I can get on board this this,’ Dean reasoned, ‘but first I need to talk to Cas. Alone. Cas?’

Castiel frowned, but then remembered the texts. Ah. Yes. That.

‘Alright. We can talk,’ he decided.

‘Great. Come with me.’

Dean turned swiftly and walked using longer strides than normal. Castiel followed behind him.

‘I’ll bring in some of this stuff. You know, the stuff we have to wrap,’ Sam called after them. He saw Cas give the thumbs up as he continued to walk away.

Dean didn’t speak until they were in Dean’s bedroom and the door was firmly closed behind them. Then, he dumped The First Book on the bed and flicked through it to the right page and pointed at it. He looked at Cas in a way that was almost challenging.

‘Does that seem familiar to you?’

He was pointing at the book. Castiel wandered over to the bed and sat beside the book, pulling it to face him and he read the first sentence. He didn’t need to read the rest of the page or even the paragraph to know exactly what had freaked Dean out about the book.

‘Dean …’

‘Is it true?’ Dean asked.

‘Yes.’

‘You pulled some random chick out of hell who turned out to be The _Savior_?’

Castiel’s eyebrows raised without him being involved, an automatic response to something he hadn’t known.

‘I pulled The Savior out of hell?’

‘Yeah. You’re victim number three and you’re mentioned a whole lot in the first half of the book.’

‘You’ve already read half the book?’

‘Skimmed it, mostly. I don’t go as in depth as Sam does.’

Castiel let his eyes flicker down the page. It was there, word for word, but in place of names there were victim numbers. Victim … it seemed an awfully ominous word for the book to use. Castiel flicked through the next several pages, reading a sentence here, a sentence there, before looking back up at Dean with sudden understanding.

Dean wasn’t freaked out about Cas being victim number three.

‘Who was she?’

‘Her name was Tyler.’

He was freaked out about himself being victim number two.

‘And for Sam?’

‘Sam?’

‘The term “the first victim” is used here, but in my memories I recall Annabel using your brother’s name.’

‘ _Annabel_?’

‘That was the name of the young woman I walked through purgatory with.’

‘How the hell did The Savior come up with these names?’

‘Perhaps she used names most suited to who she was at the time.’ Castiel closed the book and moved it out of the way, patting the space beside him. ‘Sit. Tell me about Tyler.’

Dean sat. He was frowning and he rested his elbows on his knees, staring straight ahead of him. He hadn’t thought about Tyler in a long time, not until the book mentioned her. And he most certainly had never talked about her. Sam didn’t even know about Tyler. But now Cas was about to.

‘She was just a hunter, I guess,’ Dean started. ‘From England. Travelling with a friend. We started hunting together. We liked all the same stuff. She was close to dad too.’

‘Now I understand where her name comes from,’ Castiel deliberated. ‘Tyler. A traditionally male name, but well suited to a strong female hunter. It seems like The Savior chooses names that suit who she is at the time. When did you meet Tyler?’

‘Uh, May,’ Dean recalled. ‘May second. Two thousand five. She went back to England six months later with her friend.’

‘Her friend … another victim perhaps.’

‘Maybe … but I don’t think so. She didn’t seem to _work_ him the way she worked me, y’know? I mean, every time I saw her I had my mind blown again and again … there was something about her, I guess. Mesmerizing. And even though her clothes were always torn and she was covered in blood most of the time she always looked like she was floating. Long white dress, halo, living on a cloud kind of floating.’

‘And you were close?’

‘Yeah. Almost as close as you and me are.’

Castiel frowned. It didn’t look like he liked the idea of that.

‘Interesting,’ he said in a voice laced with something Dean couldn’t place, but it didn’t sound positive.

‘So what about Annabel?’ Dean asked, looking at Cas for the first time since he’d sat. ‘Was she anything like Tyler?’

‘You could say that,’ Castiel agreed, with a slight nod. ‘Although we met towards the end of two thousand and six and were only together for a day. But there was something mesmerizing about her too, as you put it, and I agree with how you put it with the “long white dress, halo, living on a cloud” although her soul was the most damaged and broken thing I’ve ever seen, similar, perhaps, to the torn clothing and the blood. And like Tyler, her name did seem to suit here. She seemed like such an innocent soul while Annabel sounds like an innocent name.’

‘It’s hard to imagine a dark Annabel,’ Dean agreed.

‘Did Tyler seem to have knowledge beyond what she should have had?’

‘Well she was always whispering with dad. And they kept comparing journals. I didn’t understand why. It’s like she knew something he didn’t.’

‘Meanwhile, Annabel was able to tell me in depth about you and Sam even though she had never met either of you before. But she _had_. She had met both of you. But the question is: when did she meet Sam?’

‘Honestly? I have no idea. The first victim is _Sam_?’

‘It certainly seems so.’

Dean looked completely and utterly repulsed.

‘Gross.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Look for the first victim’s part in the book.’

Castiel picked up the book and placed in his lap and began flicking through. It was right there, on the first page, which he skimmed, taking in the general idea but not every single word.

‘How far in do I have to get to understand?’

‘Twenty pages or something.’

Cas flicked ahead twenty pages and resumed skimming. And then closed the book.

‘I understand now. No one wants to read about their brother in such detail doing … that.’

‘Yeah. Ugh. I need a shower.’

Cas chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Dean’s disgust was completely understandable, but it was funny. Just the tiniest bit.

‘So you still have no idea about who it could be? Sam was never … _involved_ with anyone that you remember in his teenage years?’

‘Not that I can– hold up,’ Dean realized suddenly, ‘yeah – yeah he was! He was just a kid. Sixteen, I think. We were in this town for six months or something … place called Windsor in Connecticut. And he had this huge crush on some girl in his class by the time he got home from school on the first day. Then they got together and she moved a few days before we did and he never saw again.’

‘That could be her. Do you remember her name?’

‘Aroura, I think. He never shut up about her. I met her, actually. Nice kid. And her eyes were so blue I swear they could challenge yours.’

‘So, basically, we know that The Savior does in fact appeal to each victim. A girlfriend for the new boy in school, someone new to hunt with for a hunter and then for an angel, a soul to be saved. If only we knew who the other victims were …’

‘It doesn’t say in the book. There’s some guy it just calls “the crossroads demon”, then “the double crosser” and it doesn’t give any kind of name for the other two.’

They sat side by side in silence for a time. Castiel was trying to remember as much as he could about his encounter with Annabel, but there was nothing to give away which demon was the demon who served as the fourth victim. “The double crosser” was even vaguer of a hint.

‘Perhaps … we shouldn’t tell Sam about our involvement with The Savior,’ Castiel suggested slowly.

‘Why not?’ Dean asked.

‘He didn’t tell us about him being the first victim. He obviously doesn’t want us to kn–’ He stopped mid-sentence due to his sudden realization. ‘It’s a coping mechanism.’

‘What?’

‘Christmas,’ Cas illuminated for Dean. ‘Sam doesn’t want to think about the fact that his first girlfriend was The Savior, so he’s throwing himself into the most distracting thing he can think of, which is Christmas. Humans do this sort of thing, don’t they?’

Dean nodded slowly. He got it now, too.

‘Yeah. We do that. So what, we just lie? Pretend we don’t know who anyone in the book is and just dive right into that giant Christmas tree?’

‘And make ugly sweaters and receive stupid gifts even though Sam and I already know what everything is anyway, yes.’

‘Do we seriously have to wear ugly sweaters?’

‘Yes.’

‘Me included?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, son of a bitch.’

Cas laughed. Dean glared at him. Which made Cas laugh even more.

‘You only have to wear the ugly one on Christmas Day, though,’ said Cas.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. There’s a much darker one with Jack Skellington on it you can wear until then. I made Sam get it for you.’

Dean looked more than relieved.

‘I could kiss you,’ was his grateful reply.

‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ Castiel snapped suddenly. Dean looked taken aback. Cas calmed himself somewhat. ‘Sorry. I’m still … y’know.’

‘Yeah, I know, no need to apologize.’ Dean looked sorrier than Cas felt for his sudden unexpected snap. Then Dean, attempting to lighten the mood again, raised his eyebrows while the ghost of a smirk formed on his lips. ‘Did you just swear, Cas?’

‘I swear all the time,’ Cas stated.

‘Yeah, but I’ve never heard you say “fuck” before.’

‘Actually I said “fucking” if you cared to listen correctly.’

‘Still.’ Dean seemed to be stunned and impressed by this. ‘I like this new more aggressive side of you. You should swear more often.’

Cas rolled his eyes and stood up.

‘Let’s go help Sam haul that tree in.’

‘Okay, fine,’ Dean groaned, following closely behind Cas. ‘But I swear, if he’s got an angel to put on the top of that thing I’m putting this whole thing to an end. We don’t need _two_ angels around here. One is plenty and it would be even better if that one _swore more._ ’

Castiel decided to hop in for the sickeningly sweet tactic he’d used the day he and Dean had shared pie and had used in some of the days following. Her turned around, all smiles, and replied, ‘shut the fuck up, Dean.’

Dean looked taken aback, then grinned, his eyebrows raised, as he continued following Cas back through the bunker and in search of Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth wall? What fourth wall? :-)


	11. Humanity in Angels

They found Sam in the main room (the one with the long table) surrounded by bags and bags of decorations. He was wrapping “presents” at the table and when he saw Dean approaching he pointed at the door straight away.

‘Out,’ he said sharply.

‘What?’

‘Out! Cas, get him out! He can’t see all the crap we bought. I’ll call you guys when I need help with the tree.’

Dean and Castiel backed out of the room they’d barely even entered and looked at each other. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

‘Grey’s Anatomy?’

‘And pie?’

‘Will there be ice cream with this pie?’

‘Duh.’

‘You get the food. I’ll set up the TV. And don’t –’

‘Don’t forget the coffee. Yeah, I know.’

Castiel headed off towards his bedroom and plumped his pillows some and positioned them for the perfect leaning-back-against experience. He switched on the TV and got up Netflix, straightened the bed sheets and then sat down, getting comfortable, the remote in hand.

By the time Dean arrived, Cas had already got the first episode up on screen but paused. Dean was bearing gifts; a large tub of ice cream and an entire pie. Dean had evidentially been shopping while Sam and Cas were doing the same thing across state. And, of course, he had Cas’s coffee, which Cas accepted and started drinking straight away.

‘Hit play,’ Dean commanded, settling himself down next to Cas with their food between them. He tossed Cas a fork and a spoon before digging into the pie straight away.

Cas hit play and instantly attacked the ice cream and prepared to find out why exactly Dean had gotten so excited about this show.

By the end of the episode he knew exactly why.

‘How many seasons are there?’ Castiel asked eagerly.

‘Eleven on Netflix and season twelve will be back on early next year. Thursdays, eight seven central on ABC Family.’

‘Do you think I can get through all eleven seasons by then?’

‘ _You_ can. You don’t sleep. You could watch a season a day. More, probably. Another episode?’

‘Definitely.’

Knock-knock.

‘Or not,’ Dean muttered.

‘Come in,’ said Cas.

Sam opened the door and entered the room looking cheerful.

‘Everything’s wrapped. Time for the tree. Then we can decorate,’ he informed them. He lingered in the doorway long enough for them to glance at each other, switch the TV off and stand up, then he was off, leading the way to the car again.

Sam and Castiel had been able to wheel the tree out to the car. Sam, at first, had struggled getting it onto the roof, until he remembered Cas was strong enough to lift a giant anvil, so he could lift this tree with Sam helping him maneuver it because he couldn’t see around the thing, so getting it down was even easier and it was mostly a breeze getting it inside and then into the main room, which is where Sam had decided it should go, just by the window. Or directly in front of it. Whatever worked.

‘You know what we should get?’ Sam asked the two of them as they started opening the box. ‘A couch, some chairs and a flatscreen. Oh, and maybe a fireplace. And a coffee table.’

‘So basically a living room?’ Dean asked.

‘Yeah, why not? We have a normal kitchen, normal bedrooms, but no normal living room. We should pick a room and make it.’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look. Castiel raised an eyebrow slowly. Of course Sam would choose now to decide he wanted to give the bunker a makeover. Yet another thing to distract him from the reality of the fact that he was in The First Book, he’d met The Savior, and it was weird.

Castiel wandered over to Dean’s side and made it look like he was helping Dean with the part of the tree he was tacking. He leaned close to Dean’s ear.

‘Maybe you should humor him,’ he mumbled.

Dean sighed.

‘Yeah, that’d be cool,’ he said, although he liked every room in the place the way it was. ‘Maybe you and Cas should visit Ikea again. Steal a van to drive over there in. Better for transporting the big stuff.’

‘That’s not a bad idea actually,’ Sam agreed. ‘Or all three of us could go. Maybe after Christmas.’

‘Uh huh. And what room did you have in mind for this room?’

‘The one with the fireplace already in it and those two big book shelves,’ Sam informed him. ‘We could move all those books into the library, fill the shelves with other stuff, replace the furniture, paint, get a different carpet, get a TV, a stereo maybe, make the room into something you’d see in a normal place.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Dean agreed. He barely used that room anyway. He preferred to read books in the library or in his bedroom anyway and neither of them ever used that fireplace.

They got the tree assembled, skirt and all, in about half an hour. They got the lights on it working soon after, then Sam dragged over the first few bags of decorations.

‘But wait,’ he said, as Dean and Castiel made to move towards the bags. He pulled out his phone and opened Spotify real quick, and put on a holiday playlist. ‘Proceed.’

Have A Holly Jolly Christmas started to play, and the trio set to work.

Decorating the tree actually turned out to be pretty good fun. About an hour into it, Dean decided to go out for pizza, leaving Sam and Cas alone singing along to the merry tunes as they placed this bauble here, that wooden bell there, not caring that there was no order to this tree and not caring that most of the ornaments on it didn’t match. All they cared about was the fact that there was space to fill and ornaments to fill that space. And once Dean returned, all they had to do was hold the pizza in one hand and decorate with the other.

Since Cas was knew to the whole eating stuff because it tasted good thing, Dean made sure to get way more pizza than they could all eat in one night with various different mixes of toppings on each. Cas discovered he didn’t like mushrooms and he really liked meat, but his ultimate favorite was a pizza with a thin bass, tangy barbeque sauce, mozzarella cheese, pieces of lamb kebab, bacon and cajun chicken on it, topping it all off with a stuffed cheese crust. He liked it even more when it was dipped in garlic sauce. And he liked the side of spicy chicken wings very much too.

It took hours to decorate the tree. They lost track of all time. All they knew was that when they were nearly done it meant that Dean and Cas were on their knees talking the low branches and Sam was on his toes tackling the highest of the high. And then all three of them were on chairs. And then Cas was given the most important job of placing the star on the top of the tree when they were done with the ornaments and tinsel. And then Sam and Dean could feel how exhausted they were after all that and how sick they felt from eating so much.

‘Tomorrow we’re tackling the rest of this place,’ Sam told them seriously, just before he headed off to bed, leaving Dean and Cas alone.

‘You go too,’ said Cas, once Sam had gone. ‘I’ll deal with all of the empty food containers and the leftovers.’

‘I’m tired physically. Not mentally,’ said Dean, bending down to pick up an empty pizza box that was left on the floor by some of the leftover decorations. (A tree that huge and there were still some ornaments left? Sam really _did_ go crazy earlier.) ‘I want to watch more Grey’s Anatomy.’

‘Then go set it up and wait for me, I’ll still deal with this,’ Cas replied, gesturing the mess on the floor and on the table. ‘I’ll be quick. I want to see what happens with Meredith and Derek next.’

‘I’ll go change into something more comfortable first. Then I’ll set it up if I’m done before you are.’

‘It’s a plan.’

Dean left. Castiel watched him leave and started dealing with all of the trash and left over food, thinking about what a pleasant time he’d had tonight, and about how he was glad that all evening he and Dean had been pretty much fully back to normal. Cas hadn’t felt the urge to snap at him, or act passive aggressive, or try to drive him insane by acting insanely sweet and doing something he knew Dean would like him to do. When he thought about certain things Dean had said the night of the Netflix binge they still did sting, but Dean wouldn’t have known they would. He couldn’t. Cas had never given him any signs that they would.

It was time to forgive Dean 100%.

Cas made sure to grab his bags of Supernatural merchandise which were near the table. Sam too had taken his own stuff away with him when he headed off to bed.

Dean was waiting for Cas in his bedroom with Netflix already set up. Cas had been half hoping Dean wouldn’t be there so Cas could change first without having to go off to the bathroom to do so.

‘Don’t start it yet,’ Cas warned him, going through one of his bags in search of what he’d worn last night. ‘I want to go change first.’

‘Go where?’ Dean asked.

‘To the bathroom,’ Cas answered.

‘Don’t bother,’ said Dean, brushing him off. ‘Just change. I won’t look. My eyes will be glued to the screen anyhow. Mc– Meredith’s hot. And Izzie. And Christina. And Bailey. They’re all hot.’

‘You’d better keep your eyes on that screen,’ Cas warned. ‘Now hit play.’

Dean did as he was told, and true to his word, didn’t look away from the screen the entire (albeit short) time Cas was changing. When Cas was back in the shirt with his own handprint on it and those charming pajama pants, he hopped onto the bed next to Dean, his back against the pillows, a comfortable gap between the two of them.

‘Nice shirt,’ Dean commented, when he glanced over at Cas. He was smirking. Cas rolled his eyes at him. ‘And nice hair.’

Cas wondered what he meant by that. He grabbed his phone which he’d placed next to him and looked at his reflection in the screen. He had tremendous beanie hair. It was almost applaudable how spectacularly messy it had gotten under that beanie all day. He considered brushing through it with his fingers to try and make it neater, but why bother. It’s not like Alex (Cas’s ultimate favorite so far) could see through the TV and judge him on it or anything.

‘Can I grab that blanket?’ Dean asked, pointing at the gray blanket draped over the back of the chair by the bed. ‘It’s a little chilly in here.’

‘Sure,’ Cas nodded. ‘As long as you share it and don’t hog it this time.’

‘You’re the blanket hog here, buddy,’ said Dean as he grabbed the blanket and started unfold it.

‘ _You’re_ the blanket hog here, _buddy_ ,’ Cas countered forcefully, putting a whole a whole lot of emphasis on the last word.

‘Yeah yeah, whatever you say pal.’

‘It’s my blanket. It’s my room. So yes, it _is_ whatever _I_ say, _pal._ ’

Dean arched his eyebrows as he spread the blanket over the two of them. He liked Cas repeating those words. A lot. Cas’s trip with Sam certainly did seem to have changed him. For a random example, up until today, he and Cas had never seen Cas without socks on. Apart from that naked-bee-car incident a few years back, yet now he was barefooted. Nor had he ever seen Cas _slouch,_ at least not when Cas was perfectly healthy and perfectly alert, but Cas was slouching now. Dean didn’t know whether he should be impressed by the fact that his brother had actually managed to loosen this uptight old angel up, or worried that Sam may have broken him like a toy that needed to be rewired. No one liked a doll that pissed itself what it was supposed to cry or cried when it was supposed to eat or whatever else it was that dolls did, so if Cas had been completely rewired maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.

Though Cas didn’t seem broken. Just like the remainder of the stick that had started being removed incredibly slowly a few years ago had finally come all of the way out of his ass.

They seemed to enter a whole other world as they watched and the longer they watched the deeper they got. Castiel learned that Dean seemed to like Derek Shepherd best and he could see why, although there was just something about Alex that Cas liked more, although Derek was a close … third. He was a close third to George who was a close second to Alex. Alex seemed like kind of an asshole, but Cas could see so much room for character development in him that he had hope for improvement.

Cas wasn’t exactly sure during which episode Dean fell asleep. He just became aware of the fact that Dean was snoring lightly and his eyes were closed.

 _Not mentally tired,_ Cas thought to himself. _Yeah, right._

He turned the volume down lower but not too low so that he couldn’t still hear it and kept watching, losing track of time. He had a mission now: watch all eleven seasons as quickly as possible so he would be caught up and hopefully excited to watch season twelve with Dean when it came back on. He was still watching when Dean woke up.

‘What time is it?’ Dean asked groggily, blinking and trying to make sense of his surroundings.

‘Time for Addison Shepherd to back the fuck off,’ Cas replied grumpily.

Dean chuckled.

‘I take it you listened to me about the swearing thing.’

‘Maybe. That or I just really like Meredith and Derek together.’

‘Well then you sure are in for a world of pain.’ Dean groaned as he sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched. ‘I need breakfast. And a shower.’

‘I need Meredith and Derek to get back together. You go. I’ll be here.’

‘I know you will.’

Dean left. Cas stayed. Meredith and Derek continued to not be together.

It was only ten minutes later when Sam appeared in the doorway that Dean had left partly open. Castiel paused the show and looked up at him.

‘Good morning, Sam,’ he greeted pleasantly.

‘Morning Cas.’ Sam was perky. ‘Feel like decorating the rest of this place?’

Castiel was torn. He looked from the TV to Sam and after a moment figured there was plenty of time to catch up on the show. He was already on season two and as Dean had said, he didn’t sleep. And decorating last night had been fun.

‘I’ll get dressed and then I’ll join you.’

‘Great. I’ll be by the tree sorting out the rest of the decorations.’

Castiel waited for Sam to go, closing the door behind him, before he made a move towards the shopping bag he remembered putting his usual clothes in and pulled them out. It seemed they did not appreciate being folded up in a bag and they needed ironing. His coat especially. Huh. That was new. He’d never folded them up before so he’d never had this problem.

No matter. He still had plenty of Supernatural merchandise he hadn’t worn yet. He picked a low cut v-neck shirt which was black in colour with a red devil’s trap on it. On it was “SAVING PEOPLE, HUNTING THINGS, THE FAMILY BUSSINESS, SUPERNATURAL, JOIN THE HUNT”. Then he changed into his slacks, put on some Supernatural socks and put on his shoes.

He decided to take all of his things out of the shopping bags and straighten his bed out before he headed out to help Sam. He made sure all of it was neat in the closet in his room, which up until today had been empty apart from his jacket, coat and tie being in there a few times when he wasn’t going out on any given day, and laid out his shirt, jacket and coat on the chair by his bed to remind himself he needed to iron them. And learn how to iron. His tie went into the closet with his Supernatural clothes and accessories.

A damp-haired freshly-dressed Dean appeared as Cas was positioning his two string dolls on his bed.

‘Nice dolls,’ was his greeting, then, ‘is that one Charlie?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied, looking down at it fondly. ‘There’s one for you too. Sam probably wrapped it yesterday. There’s also a string version of me, plus some kind of plastic one.’

‘Another two of you,’ Dean mused. ‘Three Cases. Interesting. Three annoying badly dressed angels.’

‘You think I dress badly?’ Cas asked, taking sudden offence.

‘Well right now, yeah,’ Dean answered. ‘Slacks and a t-shirt? Really?’

‘Really what?’

‘It’s just … they don’t really go together. It looks like your legs are going to a business meeting without the rest of you.’

‘What else am I supposed to wear? I can’t wear my usual clothing because they’re creased and these are the only pants I have.’

‘Well then next time you and Sam take one of your little trips to Hot Topic, maybe you should get more than Supernatural shirts and Christmas sweaters.’

‘We didn’t just get Supernatural shirts,’ Castiel corrected, ‘we also got pajama pants, beanies, accessories, stroing dolls, something called a vinyl figure, a board came, an umbrella, some cups, earbuds, stickers and a dress. Oh, and some women’s underwear.’

‘… _Why_?’

‘Because it’s all Supernatural themed.’

Dean looked both impressed and utterly horrified. He was thrown for a moment, simply staring at Castiel’s matter-of-fact expression, before he cleared his head.

‘Right. Come with me.’

Dean gestured and Cas followed him all the way to his bedroom, where he went to his closet and grabbed some stuff which he threw on his bed.

‘What are you doing?’ Castiel asked bewilderedly.

‘Put those on,’ Dean requested. ‘Don’t forget the belt, the jeans’ll be too loose without it because you’ve got those weird narrow hips.’

‘What’s the flannel for?’

‘To wear open over the shirt. It’ll look good, trust me on this.’

‘If you say so.’

‘Now get changed. I’ll be outside.’

Dean left and closed the door so Cas would have privacy. Castiel frowned at the closed door for a moment. Living with the Winchesters and being helped out by them was still new to him. It had been some months now and he should have gotten used to it, but it was still odd. Usually he had a “I save your life, you save mine” kind of thing going on with them. Not a “I give you my clothes just because” kind of thing. Never the less, Castiel swapped his slacks for the jeans, adjusted the belt and threw on the flannel open and exited the room with his slacks slung over his arm.

‘Better?’ he asked.

Dean experienced a serious sense of déjà vu and swallowed nervously as he gave Cas a once over and nodded, trying to seem casual. Wow, this didn’t remind him of the time Cas had gotten cleaned up after purgatory at all. Nope. Not at all.

‘Better,’ he confirmed. ‘Now let’s grab breakfast.’

‘But I told Sam I’d help him with decorating.’

‘You can help him after breakfast.’

‘But I’d rather decorate.’

‘Suit yourself.’

Cas tossed his slacks onto his bed as he passed his room and then headed off to meet Sam, while Dean headed for the kitchen.

Sam was draping tinsel around the bannister of the stairs that Cas was descending. Sam raised his eyebrows when he saw Cas approaching.

‘No trench coat today?’

‘It got creased.’

‘I’ll show you how the iron works later,’ said Sam helpfully. ‘Now grab some tinsel and start doing the other banister. Where’s Dean?’

‘Breakfast.’

‘I should’ve guessed.’

Sam already had jolly Christmas music playing in the background as they worked their way along the bannisters until they were completely tinseled up. They progressed to other staircases in the place after that one. Dean didn’t make an appearance until after all the bannisters were done.

‘That was a long breakfast,’ Sam commented when he finally showed up while Sam and Cas were sorting out what Christmas lights were going to go where.

‘I had some other stuff to do,’ he answered, shrugging.

‘Like?’

‘Other stuff.’

‘… Okay then.’

Castiel frowned at Dean, wondering what other stuff it was that he had to do, but said nothing. He got back to straightening out a string of lights.

The placing of lights and various other ornaments around the bunker didn’t even take half as long as the giant tree, then Sam ordered Dean and Cas to take all of the festive crockery and cooking equipment into the kitchen and store it safely while he went and placed mistletoe around the bunker.

‘Hold up,’ Dean said in a vaguely panicked tone, ‘ _mistletoe_?’

‘Yeah, Dean. Mistletoe. It’s Christmas.’

‘But –’

‘Oh relax, would you? It’s not like you’re gonna have to kiss anyone under it.’

‘But –’

Sam cut off whatever Dean’s complaint was going to be by walking away. Dean scowled at his back. Castiel looked at Dean’s scowl and felt the urge to laugh but resisted.

‘Come on,’ said Cas, grabbing hold of two of the last few bags left on the floor by the table. ‘Let’s put the plates away.’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ Dean grumbled, grabbing the rest of the bags and following after him moodily.

They headed off to the kitchen and put the bags on the table and started emptying them out and opening what was inside of them to get out the pots, pans, plates, glasses and whatever else this crap Sam had bought was.

Dean found himself watching Cas hang a festively designed pot next to one of the boring old plain ones they hardly used and found himself nodding approvingly yet again as he looked at his outfit. When Cas turned around he frowned at Dean’s intense, wandering gaze.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘You look good,’ Dean replied with a casual shrug. ‘Those clothes suit you.’

‘They do?’

‘Yeah. You should dress like that more often. Don’t you ever get bored wearing the same thing all the time?’

‘I’ve never really given it much thought,’ Cas shrugged, grabbing a stack of plates, way more than they needed, and putting them in with the plain ones.

‘Well if you ever do think about it, you know who to come to. I’ll hook you up,’ Dean said loosely in a way that sounded as though he didn’t really care one way or the other.

‘I appreciate that,’ Castiel replied.

Dean continued along the same sort of tangent.

‘I mean, how long have you been living here? A few months? And you only really just started living about a … yesterday,’ Dean stated. ‘It’s about time you started getting a little more relaxed. More casual. You’re pretty much one of us now. Like a third Winchester.’

‘I was under the impression that the Impala was the third Winchester.’

‘Please. She’s way too good to be a Winchester. What did she ever do to deserve _that_ title? She’s crashed and burned enough times.’

Cas smiled. He had a point.

‘Okay. So what you’re saying is I’ve been too … what? Me? And not enough you guys?’

‘I’m not saying that at all,’ Dean hastened to correct, ‘I’m not trying to _change_ you or anything. I’m just saying, you’ve had some Netflix binges, worked a few cases, dug into a _ton_ or lore, eaten a load of crap and now you’re wearing _plaid_ … I mean, come on. You’re practically human. Except way better, since you’re still an angel.’

Cas stopped halfway to the cutlery drawer and smiled to himself as the words sunk in. That was true. He _was_ practically human. A human-ey angel at least. For some reason, that made him happy rather than sad, like it had made him for a long time before, during and after his short stint as an _actual_ human.

‘I suppose I could begin to act more casually around the bunker,’ Cas suggested slowly, a hint of a smile still on his face as he looked at Dean who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded. ‘And perhaps dress more casually around here too. Not as casually as you did that day you wore those shorts you wore some months ago,’ he clarified, ‘but more casual than just removing my jacket, coat and tie. And I’ll save my usual outfit for going out. Or perhaps for just working cases … I’d like to work with you more often, by the way. Working with you while Sam was reading The First Book was quite an enjoyable experience.’

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Dean asked, tilting his head to the side as he recalled it. ‘You sucked less than I remembered.’

‘Letting that slide,’ Cas continued, ‘I think if we were to work together again it would be even better than it was over the course of the past week because next time I won’t still be secretly angry at you.’

‘Aren’t you still?’ asked Dean.

‘I will be if you don’t stop leaning against that wall and actually help me with this stuff,’ Cas replied warningly.

Dean grabbed a set of festive mugs.

‘And he makes a joke. See? This is the side of you I like to see.’ Once the mugs were put away, Dean turned to face Cas and blocked him from going back to the table. ‘But seriously. Aren’t you still?’

Castiel looked down for a moment, thinking about it one last time, and was happy with what he came up with. He looked back up at Dean, his sudden smile showing he was proud of himself for getting over it at last.

‘No, I’m not.’

Cas could see the happy gleam and the relief rush into Dean’s eyes as Dean returned Cas’s smile.

‘Good,’ said Dean. ‘I’m glad. I was getting tired of rethinking every crappy joke and every time you got pissed off the words “es una passiva aggressive” coming into my head.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know the Spanish word for aggressive.’

‘Ah. Why think in Spanish in the first place?’

‘There’s a song called “Es Una Passiva”.’

‘ _Ah._ ’

They fell silent and looked at each other with mutual grins they didn’t seem to be able to wash off. A voice in the doorway interrupted them.

‘Oh boy, they’re doing the thing with the eyes again.’

‘Shut up, Sam,’ said Dean. ‘We we’re trying to make up, here.’

‘It looks more like you’re about to start making out,’ Sam commented, heading over to grab one of the only things remaining on the table and stow it away. ‘Should I lead you to the mistletoe, or?’

Castiel looked pointedly away from both of them and took a step back from Dean. Dean’s “are you fucking kidding me” face was automatically activated.

‘Since when were you _Crowley_?’

Sam didn’t respond. Instead he just laughed, put away the last of the stuff and looked at the two of them. He shook his head when he saw how Cas was still pointedly staring at a hanging pot.

‘It’s just a joke. No need to take it so seriously. So are we done in here or do you two need a moment?’

‘We’re done.’

‘Great. Next on the list of things to do: let’s break out the Ugly Christmas Sweater Kits.’

‘Do we have to?’

‘It’s either the sweaters or I go get the mistletoe and dangle it over you for the rest of the day.’

‘Sweater me up, Sam.’ Dean heard the pot-staring angel laugh. He narrowed his eyes at him. ‘You think this is funny, do you?’

Cas looked at Dean and tried to keep the amusement from showing on his face.

‘Of course not.’

Dean didn’t see through it. He narrowed his eyes.

‘I hope your sweater itches.’

‘I’m an angel. I don’t get itches.’

Dean continued to glare at Cas as he swept past him, following Sam out of the room in silence. Castiel followed, a little smugly perhaps, grinning now that Dean couldn’t see.

Yes. Making up with Dean was a very good idea.

The kits turned out to be more complicated than they looked, but also more fun. Sam went for the “ _I must use everything in this kit_ ” thing and his sweater turned out looking like a crowded mess but pretty festive and fun. Cas went for two reindeer jumping over two snowflakes. Underneath it he put a Santa with google eyes, and on the back he used pipe cleaners and pomp oms to write out “MERRY CHRISTMAS” with a snowman underneath. And Dean, typical Dean, wrote out “THIS IS STUPID” on the front and under it put google eyes, the large moustache and then a pipe cleaner on the mouth, but on the back he wrote “MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL” which was a reference he and Sam had to explain to Cas.

‘We’ll watch the movie on Christmas day,’ Sam promised the slightly overwhelmed Cas who had just been bombarded by two very bad descriptions of the Home Alone movies.

‘I don’t understand why I would want to watch a movie in which two grown men try to kill an eight year old boy,’ Cas said disapprovingly.

‘No – trust me – it’s funny,’ said Dean, rather unhelpfully.

‘You think trying to kill a child is funny?’

‘He means it’s funny how bad they are at it,’ Sam tried to explain a little better. ‘And how the kid outsmarts them. You’ll love it, really. Just believe us.’

‘I’ll try believing you but I still don’t know …’

That caused more laughter from Sam and Dean, resulting in Dean patting Cas on the shoulder and declaring: ‘look, Home Alone is a classic. We wouldn’t be talking it up this much if it wasn’t worth it. You’ll _love_ it if you don’t over think it. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ Cas mumbled, still unsure.

‘I’ll go look for download links online,’ Sam decided at once, and did just that, sweeping off to grab his laptop.

‘You do that,’ said Dean, looking down at his ugly Christmas sweater rather than Sam who was leaving with his own. He pulled a face. ‘Yeah. I’m glad I’ve got Jack Skellington to fall back on. This is crap.’

‘It’s not crap,’ Cas contradicted, ‘it’s just …’

‘Really crap?’

‘... Home-made.’

‘Oh. So you mean absolute, total, crap.’

‘No, _home-made_ crap.’

Dean laughed out loud. Cas smiled at the fact that he had made Dean laugh and began gently folding up his own sweater to place in his bedroom. He smirked to himself seeing Dean being just as careful with his, happy with the fact that even though Dean thought his creation was crap he still didn’t want to ruin it. The two headed off for their bedrooms together.

‘So what exactly are we supposed to do until Christmas?’ Cas asked curiously as they walked together, side by side. ‘It’s the seventeenth. Christmas Eve is not until the twenty fourth and it doesn’t seem like Sam plans for any of us to do any hunting or do anything that has anything to do with The First Book any time soon.’

‘We take a break, I guess,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Watch Grey’s Anatomy. Watch stupid Christmas movies. Avoid the mistletoe. Stay in our pajamas all day and eat junk food. Let all the other hunters out there handle the hauntings and the freaky monsters.’

‘But you hardly ever take breaks.’

‘Yeah, I know. I can count the number of breaks we’ve taken in the last, say, ten years on one hand. This one still doesn’t get it up to two hands.’

‘I’m not sure I know how to take a break,’ Castiel said pensively. ‘I know that perhaps the few weeks of recovery time I took after being under Rowena’s spell counted as a small break of sorts, but other than that …’

‘Don’t worry,’ Dean assured him. ‘I’ll teach you.’

‘But how would you know how to properly take a break if you’ve taken hardly any?’

‘Because I’ve been dreaming of a break for years,’ Dean replied. ‘And because humans tend to be better at taking breaks from stuff than angels.’

‘So it’s a human thing?’

‘Could be.’

‘There seems to very little humanity in angels.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Dean declared, casually tossing an arm around Cas’s shoulders. ‘We’ll soon change that.’

‘I thought you said you didn’t want to change me.’

‘And I won’t be changing you,’ Dean told him as they reached Dean’s bedroom, dropped off Dean’s sweater, and headed back out again towards Cas’s. ‘I’ll just be teaching you a thing or two.’

‘Like?’

‘Like … I don’t know, Cas. What do you _want_ to know?’

‘What do we do for the rest of the day?’

They entered Cas’s room and Cas tossed his sweater onto his chair and sat down on his bed next to Dean, who withdrew his friendly arm.

‘Whatever we want,’ Dean stated.

‘ _Whatever_ we want?’

‘Sleep. Eat. Watch TV. Go drive somewhere. Fly to the moon. _Whatever._ ’

‘Interesting.’

Castiel stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed, the side he usually sat on when sitting back against the pillows, and did just that, making sure he didn’t sit on his string dolls first. Dean copied him on the other side.

‘So what do you want to do?’

Castiel’s brow knitted together as he slowly thought stuff over. These past two days had given him a lot to think about and he’d done a lot that he wouldn’t usually do … and he had enjoyed it immensely. When he had forced into becoming human, the experience had been horrible, but that was because it wasn’t by choice and then he had been homeless, dead and homeless again. But if he were to be an angel, but making a choice …

‘Teach me to be more human.’

Dean’s eyebrows shot through the ceiling.

‘Okay … I wasn’t expecting that.’

‘So you won’t do it?’

‘No, no, I will … I just didn’t expect that.’

‘So what do I do?’

‘I’m thinking …’

Castiel watched Dean think with a half eager and half worried expression on his face, while Dean was trying to keep the joy off of his. His friend was actually asking him for help. _He_ was usually the one asking for help. He was glad to finally be able to help Cas with something. (Excluding the whole attack dog thing. That sucked and wasn’t exactly something he wanted to think about a lot.) And it was something _normal_. (Or as normal as they could get.) This gave them the opportunity to actually have a normal friendship, even if it only lasted a few days …

To Dean, who cared deeply for Castiel and had always secretly longed to be able to have a normal relationship with him, this was one of the greatest things that could have possibly happened. He was almost glad that Sam had gone Christmas-crazy to distract him from stuff in that stupid book.

‘We can start by expanding your wardrobe.’

Castiel frowned.

‘Dean, I don’t have a wardrobe. I have a small walk in closet and a dresser.’

It was very hard for Dean to keep a straight face.

‘No, Cas. As in your wearable wardrobe. The stuff you wear.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘All you own is a suit, a trench coat and some Supernatural merchandise. And you can’t keep wearing my stuff forever.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you need – no, you _deserve_ – your own stuff.’

‘Yes. You do. So we need to go clothes shopping … but the question is where?’

‘Where do you usually buy your clothes?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Around. I don’t really go shopping for them. If I need something I usually just check out goodwill and if they don’t have anything I find the smallest store in the area I’m in at the time – but that won’t do for you. It’s your first time. You need options. We need somewhere good, somewhere with stuff you’ll like – like Hot Topic.’

‘But Dean, you hated Hot Topic when we went in there for Claire’s birthday gift.’

‘But you seem to like the place. I mean come on, look at all the stuff you bought there.’

‘So?’

‘So, I’ll just grin and bear it.’ It looked like it took a great deal of effort for Dean to say what he said next. ‘What do you say? You and me. Trip. Like you and Sam took except without all of the Christmas crap. We could go tomorrow and stay as many days as it takes to get everything you need. You in?’

Cas felt an odd fluttering inside him that he could only describe as excitement and he found himself nodding far more enthusiastically than he had intended.

‘Yes, Dean. I’m in. In fact I would like that very much.’

Dean wasn’t lying when he replied, ‘so would I.’

‘So what now?’ Cas asked, his mood dramatically lightened now.

‘An episode of Grey’s and then we go see how many millions of Christmas movies Sam’s downloaded?’

‘You had me at Grey’s.’

Castiel felt oddly jittery inside when watching the episode. The excitement, probably. And he still felt jittery when they discovered Sam had downloaded all of the Home Alones plus several other movies including The Nightmare Before Christmas, which Cas had wanted to see since he’d first heard of it. And he felt even more jittery when Dean was telling Sam about the trip they had planned for tomorrow and however many days afterwards. Sam seemed excited to have the bunker to himself for a few days.

There honestly wasn’t much to do for the rest of the day after that. Everywhere was decorated, there were no cases to work and not freaky incidents on the news had screamed ‘AMARA’ at them causing this break to be cut short, nor had any demons showed up at their door looking for The First Book, so what else could they do but eat the leftover food from last night, get even more, and act like lazy slobs around the bunker just doing … whatever?

Dean and Castiel went straight back for the Grey’s Anatomy binge. An episode and a half later, Sam showed up and wedged himself into the space between them on the bed, putting them both on the edge and making it extremely crowded. Then in a manner that was very Sam but also very _not_ Sam, or at least not usual serious Sam, he threw his arms around them both and pulled them to his sides, hugging them tightly, mostly as a joke. Dean found it extremely weird and objected straight away. Cas actually thought it was kinda nice. That was what lead to Sam and Cas being – the only term for it that was suitable – _cuddled up_ together under the gray blanket while Dean sat beside them, tremendously third-wheeling it.

It wasn’t a full on Grey’s binge now that Sam was here. They watched a few episodes of Grey’s, a few of Gilmore Girls, then back again. Dean looked very uncomfortable whenever Dean was on screen on Gilmore Girls. 

After a while, Sam decided he wanted to go stretch his legs and then take some time to read a good book, leaving Dean and Castiel alone to go back to Grey’s only.

‘If you think we’re cozying it up like you and Sam, you’ve got another thought coming,’ Dean said, half serious and half joking as he moved more comfortable onto the bed and accepted some blanket from Cas.

‘Of course not,’ said Cas, sounding like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. ‘I’m certain that Sam is much more comfortable than you are to lean against. I’d rather be comfortable.’

Dean narrowed his eyes. Cas smirked. Dean narrowed his eyes even more so that they were like slits.

‘On second thoughts, I don’t think I like this side of you,’ he replied coolly.

‘Would you rather I swear at you for a while?’

‘I’d rather you shut up and let me concentrate on staring at the hot doctors.’

‘Deal. Alex is finally going through some of that character development I foresaw for him and I wouldn’t like to miss it by wasting my breath on you.’

Dean rolled his eyes at Cas before folding his arms and focusing on the screen.

Later in the evening, borderline night, they finally decided they’d had enough, so they sought out Sam who was reading, but decided to close his book and suggested they play that Supernatural themed Clue board game from Hot Topic. They did end up playing, and it was quite a surprise when Cas won the first two games. 

After playing another two games, Dean got annoyed that he hadn’t won any and began huffily clearing the game away, giving Sam time to show Cas how the iron worked and Cas could iron out his clothes at last, even if he wasn’t going to be wearing them tomorrow.

When the trio parted for bed that night it was in high spirits which Castiel hoped would last. He liked seeing the brothers happy. He was smiling about it the whole way to the kitchen, then back to his room, where he changed into the clothes he’d now started unconsciously calling his pajamas and slid under the duvet of his bed with some coffee and cold pizza, his Dean and Charlie string dolls on the next pillow ready to watch Grey’s with him all night.

Castiel tried to avoid doing much thinking during the night, especially after he associated his excitement for the next day with the nervousness he felt about a patient’s survival. They felt similar and that realization made the feeling increase dramatically. Why was he nervous about spending time with Dean? Or was he nervous about the fact that he was stepping out his comfort zone with this whole “break” thing and the whole casual dressing, trying to act less uptight, make more jokes, be more sarcastic … he made it seem like it came easy, but it was actually a lot of work and deep thought went into every word.

That’s why he was nervous. It’s because it was easier with Sam. He could be as much like himself or as little like himself as possible without feeling weird about it because he knew Sam wouldn’t notice either way and encourage him no matter what. But Dean, Dean made him nervous.

But excitedly nervous.

He discovered that the excitement and nerves could be paired together when Dean knocked on his door in the morning to let him know it was morning, assuming correctly that Cas had lost all sense of time sitting in the dark staring at the television all night.

‘All night?’ Dean asked as he entered the room, nodding at the TV.

‘I feel as though I could tell people I’m a doctor if they were to ask.’

Dean chuckled.

‘Yeah, that happens. Do you need more time to finish up an episode, or …?’

Cas shook his head.

‘Just give me a few minutes.’

‘Great.’ Dean tossed a small, empty duffel bag towards Cas. ‘Put some stuff in that. Phone charger, spare shirt, those weird ass pajamas of yours, illegal fireworks, whatever you need to bring and then meet me in the kitchen.’

Dean left without another word. Cas frowned after him. He didn’t have any illegal– oh. It was a joke, right.

Cas left Grey’s playing in the background while he changed into the clothes Dean had given him yesterday, except with a different shirt under the flannel. The shirt he chose had a large picture of himself (or rather, the Castiel face claim) with the words “I got it at The Hot Topical” above the image and as an afterthought, threw on the anti-possession pom-beanie too. He threw a shirt with Dean’s face claim on it in the bag Dean had given him, along with his phone charger, pajamas and then three books; Charlie had once given him three books called “The Hunger Games” to read but he’d never gotten around to it and no matter how hard he tried to recall, it seemed Metatron had never read them because they weren’t inside Castiel’s head. So, a long car journey seemed like a good excuse to get to reading them.

The last thing he added to the bag was the Charlie string doll. He was reading the books she’d given him, he may as well take her with him.

Then he made his bed, straightened his pillows and went to meet Dean, who was at the table drinking coffee and eating toast, across from Sam who was doing the same. Dean seemed to light up when he saw Cas, which was unusual for him.

Sam moved over a space to allow Cas to take a seat after he’d grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee from the still-hot pot. He sat in the seat Sam had freed for him while taking a drink, then grabbed a slice of toast from the plate in the middle of the table that both Winchesters were eating from.

‘So when do you two leave?’ Sam asked. He seemed almost eager for them to leave.

‘After breakfast?’ Dean suggested, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Cas.

‘That’s okay by me,’ Cas agreed.

‘After breakfast it is,’ Dean confirmed. He looked accusingly at Sam. ‘Why? What time do your party guests arrive?’

‘Oh, you know, about a half hour after the kegs,’ Sam replied offhandedly.

‘I hope you’re joking,’ Castiel said disapprovingly.

‘Of course I’m joking,’ Sam laughed. ‘We don’t have enough friends to make up an entire party.’

Cas thought it over for a moment.

‘That’s true. You do have very few friends.’

Conversation was light over breakfast. Sam and Dean made more jokes about how Sam would be spending his time alone. Castiel listened, enjoying the witty banter of the brothers. He doubted they spoke this easily often. Usually it was just talk of hunting and everything that came with it. It made him happy that they were happy.

Dean and Castiel, small and almost empty duffel bags with them, said goodbye to Sam just before they left.  Dean was whistling something on the way to the Impala. Cas had never heard whatever song it was, but he liked the sound of whatever it was. They left their duffels in the back seat before they climbed into the front.

‘So why do we need two bags? Our things could easily fit in one,’ Castiel asked as Dean started the car and started to back up.

‘More space to put whatever we buy into,’ Dean explained. I’ve got another duffel and a backpack in my bag.’

‘If you had told me we needed more bags I would have brought my Supernatural backpack,’ Castiel said with a very small frown. Dean raised his eyebrows at him.

‘There’s a backpack?’

‘Yes. There’s a backpack.’

‘So they just stick something Supernatural related on anything and just call it merchandise.’

‘I think that’s how merchandise works.’

‘Still. They sell some pretty random stuff. Then again, you should see the stuff they slap band merchandise on. The Led Zeppelin stuff I’ve seen …’

They had a casual difference about different types of merchandise that lasted quite a while. Dean told Cas about some freaky stuff he’d come across online while aimlessly browsing during non-busy moments and about even freakier stuff in goodwill shops, then told him about what Ozzy Osbourne had to say about Elvis stuff sold at Elvis gigs.

‘How do you know what Ozzy Osbourne has to say on this matter?’

‘It’s in his book.’

‘You’ve read a book?’ Castiel hadn’t meant to sound so surprised. He was quick to add, ‘a book that doesn’t have anything to do with hunting or monsters?’

‘I’ve read a few books,’ Dean said with a shrug. ‘Mostly stuff about bands I like. A lot of them have interesting histories. Autobiographies are fun too. See what kind of problems normal people have. But honestly I’ve read Ozzy’s book more than any of the others – once or twice a year since it came out, three times one after the other the year it did.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously. That guy’s been through some crap.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, he bit the head off a bat once. And a dove. He almost died on a quad bike, but that was Hitler’s fault. Oh, and he pissed on the Alamo and on the wheel of an unmarked cop car.’

‘A bit the head off a _bat_? _Why_?’

‘He thought it was rubber.’

‘Why would he bite the head off of a rubber bat?’

Dean grinned and looked over at Cas fondly, then made a decision.

‘Get my box of tapes from under the seat and putt on the one that says “Black Sabbath” on it twice.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m about to tell you the story of John “Ozzy” Osbourne, Tony Iommi, Terrence “Geezer” Butler and Bill Ward.’

‘Who?’

‘Black Sabbath, Cas.’

‘Ozzy’s real name is John?’

‘Just put the tape on and put your ears on, would you?’

‘Give me a minute …’

When Cas eventually found the right tape and put it on, Dean began his story, or rather, Ozzy’s, starting at the beginning with Ozzy’s schooling and slowly moving up throughout his life, trying to tell Cas all the stories and details just as Ozzy had told them in the book, word for word in some cases. He tried not to leave anything out, but he couldn’t remember _every_ detail of the book and he hadn’t read it in a while, but in his own opinion he did a pretty good job. He even threw in some extra stuff that was in interviews that he’d seen and in other books mentioning Ozzy.

Castiel sat attentively listening for well over an hour letting Dean speak freely. He liked listening to Dean talk, especially so freely and easily and especially about something normal that he seemed to have a genuine interest in. And Castiel liked learning. Of course he had heard of Ozzy and of Black Sabbath, mostly because he knew the names of many of the bands Dean liked and because Ozzy’s name was thrown around on television a lot, but learning about him was a whole other thing. And the prison Ozzy went to seemed much worse than Litchfield …

Castiel had a lot of questions once Dean was finally finished, having gone from John Osbourne the boy to Ozzy Osbourne the recovering addict who was currently doing rehearsals with Tony and Geezer for The End tour. Dean was happy to answer all of them or explain something a little better or clarify a thing or two he may have brushed over in the telling of the stories.

Cas learned on that four hour drive that yes, he knew Dean, but he didn’t _know_ Dean. He knew his past, his present, stuff he did, stuff would never do in a million years, some likes, some dislikes and of course he knew his _soul_ well, but he had no idea that Dean knew so much about things that sparked his interest and he was fascinated to listen to all Dean had to say about this, about that and about everything going on in the world that didn’t have do to with hunting.

Cas was smiling absentmindedly at Dean when they pulled up at the motel he’d told Dean the name of. Dean noticed and gave Cas a funny look.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean what?’ Castiel replied. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘You’re smiling.’

‘Am I?’

‘Yeah, you are.’

‘Then it must be because I enjoy talking with you,’ was Cas’s simple reply. ‘And listening to you. It’s nice to talk about normal things like this, isn’t it?’

Dean took a moment to think about what he meant and once he’d realized, he found himself matching Cas’s smile.

‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘Yeah, it is.’

They headed into the motel with their bags and with matching springs in their steps. When they were checking into a twin room, the person who was checking them in looked at Cas’s shirt and then at his face and gave him an odd look. Dean didn’t miss the exchange and had to stop himself from laughing at Cas’s confused look.

It was a different room to the one Cas had stayed in with Sam but it was almost identical. They dumped their bags on the beds and looked around. Already the place was so boring they had to get of the room, like, now.

‘So,’ Dean asked, smiling brightly at Cas, ‘lunch?’

‘Lunch sounds great.’

Instead of searching for places like Sam did, Dean just drove around for a whole scoping the place out and seeing what places there were. They decided to eat at Papa John’s, continuing the whole pattern of gorging themselves on pizza that they’d had going on since tree-decoration day. They got a pizza each, plus chicken wings, plus breadsticks, plus dessert. They place didn’t sell coffee, but Dean had been sure to stop off somewhere that did first to grab some for Cas.

‘You really do seem to enjoy your pizza,’ Dean commented as Cas crammed almost an entire slice in his mouth.

Cas chewed quickly, swallowed, and replied, ‘as do you.’

‘Well, pizza’s good.’

‘Yes, it’s very good.’ Cas took another bite before thoughtfully saying, ‘you know, I don’t mean to cause offence, but it does fascinate me how you can eat so much junk yet remain so …’

‘Super hot?’

‘Physically fit.’

‘I would’ve said super hot.’

‘That’s because you’re vain. But it is interesting. Any normal human with your atrocious eating habits would be – and here I use an exaggeration as I hear many humans doing – say, the size of a house.’

Dean laughed, almost chocking as he did so.

‘I guess I like a more active lifestyle than most,’ he replied indifferently. ‘Most people don’t have to beat the crap out of monsters every other day and run away from every shadow they come across.’

‘That is true,’ Castiel pondered, ‘but your eating habits truly are atrocious.’

‘Yeah, well, so are yours.’

‘I’m an angel. Health is no concern to me. I can eat whatever I want.’

‘I’m not an angel. I could die walking down the street. I can eat whatever I want.’

‘I wasn’t trying to say you can’t. I believe you should do what makes you happy. I was simply trying to make a moderately humorous joke.’

‘Well you succeeded. Your whole house thing was “moderately humorous” as you put it.’

‘Good. I’m glad you think so.’

There were no more moderately humorous jokes made during the meal, mostly because they were too busy enjoying their meals to bother with any. Once they were finished, they left and headed straight to Hot Topic to begin the quest of dressing the angel.

‘First thing’s first,’ Dean said, upon entering the store, ‘what kind of clothes would you like to look at first?’

Castiel thought for a moment.

‘I enjoy the notion of Christmas sweaters but without the Christmas aspect.’

‘So, just sweaters?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘Then let’s find some sweaters.’

It turned out Cas had fashion sense that could only be described as “dorky”. Most of the hooddies and pullovers and sweaters  there were all band or television show related, but the first thing Cas grabbed was a black and blue tie dye hoodie and held it up to Dean as if looking for approval.

‘This?’

‘Do you like it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then get it. Get anything you want. Buy the whole store if you want. It’s not like we’ll be paying the credit card bills.’

Castiel beamed. Dean felt a funny stirring in his chest. They continued about their shopping.

Once Cas got going, he seemed to be more relaxed and a whole lot more excited. It seemed like he was enjoying himself, which made Dean’s experience more enjoyable. Cas deserved to enjoy himself. It’s not like he’d ever had much to enjoy before.

Cas picked out a sweater covered in skulls and then, almost a complete opposite of that, a cat space invasion sweat shirt. He also picked out a Pikachu hoodie because despite not knowing what the yellow thing was, he deemed it ‘pleasant to look at’.  He got two Hogwarts pullovers, (‘Harry Potter is an interesting series.’ ‘How do you know?’ ‘It’s one of the things Metatron put in my head,’) a pullover with a cat on it, then it was time to move onto t-shirts. Cas got so many of those that Dean lost count and they had everything from cats to unicorns to food on them. And then, in the true Winchester fashion, he got a whole lot of plaid.

When it came to jeans, fitting rooms were involved to find the perfect size and Cas took armfuls of plain jeans, patterned jeans, coloured jeans and almost all of them seemed to be “skinny jeans” or “skinny fit” making Dean think maybe this wasn’t the best place to shop for jeans, but he didn’t object because Cas seemed to like them and, if he was being honest with himself, Dean thought Cas looked pretty damn good in them even though they didn’t look very practical. (Who the hell wanted jeans that were so damn fitting? Could he even bend his knees?)

Though he did get some straight leg jeans too, so Dean supposed he could just wear those if he were, say, hunting with Sam or Dean. Easier to run and fight in.

Castiel thought they were done there, but Dean reminded him they still needed to scope out sleepwear, underwear, shoes and socks.

‘But Dean, I don’t sleep,’ Castiel reminded him.

‘No, but you still get into a bed at night, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And your options are limited with that Supernatural stuff, so come on. Let’s have a look.’

They looked. Cas liked. He liked patterned pajama bottoms very much, although they didn’t have anything in the way of tops. Dean said tops didn’t matter so much, and now they could move onto underwear, where Cas had more to say on the matter of:

‘Why?’

‘Because you need more than one pair of underwear. Come on, you have to know that.’

‘But … I’m an angel.’

‘Still. You should have options.’

‘If you say so.’

Dean did feel a little weird helping Cas shop for underwear, but the guy was clueless. It was true that it’s not like his underwear would ever be dirty since angels didn’t sweat or do any of that crap and they didn’t even need to take showers, but he knew himself that underwear could wear out, so it was better to have extra. Dean didn’t even like to think about the time a hole in the back of his underwear got so big he may as well have been going commando. His mind had been other places, he wasn’t thinking about buying new underwear … but when he did, he got more than he needed.

And as it turned out yet again, Cas liked patterned underwear. And patterned socks.  Although the only shoes he liked were the black hi-top sneakers and the skull patterned ones of the same style, so they’d have to find somewhere else to get him some a few more pairs of decent shoes. He did end up getting some Pikachu slippers though.

They had been shopping for a lot longer than they had realized as they carried very many bags back to the car, Castiel very happy with his new clothes. The back seat was filled with the bags as they drove off.

‘We finished in one day,’ Castiel stated as they drove.

‘Not fully. You still need shoes.’

‘That won’t take long. We’ve still finished in a day.’

‘Yeah, we have,’ Dean agreed, then looked at Cas with an almost mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘I guess we’ll just have to find another reason to stay for another day or two.’

Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion.

‘But … why?’

‘Why? Come on, Cas. Sam gets a vacation and I don’t? That’s hardly fair.’

‘That’s true.’ He paused, then the realization came. ‘So taking me to buy clothing was just an excuse to get out of the bunker?’

‘Bingo.’

‘That’s cunning.’

‘Sometimes you have to be cunning. So. Let’s say we decide to wait until tomorrow to get you some shoes. That gives us the rest of tonight to do whatever we want, right?’

‘Right.’

‘So let’s say we do something fun. How’s that for a crazy idea?’

‘Fun as in …?’

‘Whatever _you_ want to do.’

Castiel had never heard those words in that order directed at him at any point in his entire existence. He stared at Dean with an expression that was just short of mouth-hanging open, eyes-popping disbelief. Dean used Cas’s sudden silence to look at him, and grinned at him. Castiel’s brow furrowed.

‘Why?’ He seemed to be saying that a lot today.

‘Why not?’

‘Because we’ve never done anything I’ve wanted to do before.’ After a pause, a possibly badly worded sentence came out of his mouth. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’

That struck Dean a little harder than he would have liked.

‘Am I ever not nice to you?’

‘Well …’

‘Let me rephrase that. Why would I _not_ be nice to you?’

‘Because you’ve never been nice in this way before. Saying we can do what I want to do. And acting like we’re …’

‘Friends? Because we are.’

‘No … well, yes … but I mean _normal_ friends.’

Dean looked at Cas and the way Cas looked genuinely confused made him feel something very similar to pain. He sighed, the smile dropping from his face, deciding it was time to be honest.

‘Because Sam and I talked about it this morning. And we realized that in the past we’ve treated you like crap.’

‘Oh no, Dean, I wouldn’t say –’

‘Crap. A helpline. Someone we’re only nice to when you can do something for us. Whatever you want to call it. I mean come on, when was the last time we actually did anything together that wasn’t for mine or Sam’s personal gain?’

Cas cast his mind back.

‘When you helped me out when you thought I was going on a date and then helped me after the … incident that night.’

‘Years ago, yeah. And before that?’

‘I don’t know … the night before you met Raphael for the first time when we thought I was going to die? I don’t remember.’

‘Exactly,’ Dean said seriously, ‘you don’t remember. So it’s about time we stopped just _using_ you and started making _you_ happy. We’ve known you over seven freakin’ years, man, and we’ve never even had a proper night out that didn’t involve dying the next day or being on a case or some other fucked up situation.’

Dean had felt anger bubbling beneath the surface towards the end of his sentence. Anger at _himself_ , for treating his friend so badly. Anger at the circumstances, for putting them in such shitty situations, anger at both himself and Sam for not realizing this sooner.

Castiel looked at Dean with those ever-forgiving eyes and said quietly, ‘it’s not your fault, Dean. Or Sam’s. It never has been. It’s just …’

‘Don’t you dare say life.’

‘The lifestyle we lead.’

They were back at the motel now, parked, but not getting out of the car. Dean turned to look at Cas. It was odd how he could go from feeling so good a few minutes ago to feeling like the shittiest person on earth so fast.

‘Yeah, whatever. But it shouldn’t be like this. You should know – we should tell you, or show you, that you _matter_. It’s about time you got some recognition for everything you do. Because believe me, I know what it’s like feeling like you don’t matter, or no one cares about you, and it doesn’t feel very fucking nice, Cas.’

From happiness to anger to guilt to … whatever this was. Dean could feel himself getting emotional and it felt like there was something in his throat that he couldn’t clear out and he didn’t know why, why this was happening, why this was so sudden, and why he felt so _fucking bad_.

‘But I don’t feel any of those things,’ Castiel said quietly.

It wasn’t true. He had felt all that and more in the past, especially the recent past despite the pleasant short-sessions (and even more recently, longer-sessions) of casual company as he watched whatever he was watching on Netflix at the time. He did feel like no one really cared about him. He felt like he didn’t matter. He felt like a tool to be used whenever he was needed, if he even _was_ needed, because all he seemed to do was look stuff up in books and on the internet, or make some huge sacrifice that seemed to make things worse the majority of the time.

‘But we – and I – want to make sure you never do,’ said Dean, trying very hard to keep his voice steady. He had to remind himself to breathe evenly. ‘You deserve more, Cas. You deserve _better_.’

‘I have friends like you and Sam,’ said Cas. He swallowed. He didn’t like how he felt right now. ‘What else could I need?’

‘Everything we can’t give you,’ Dean croaked, staring at Cas with eyes that shouldn’t have been shiny. He shouldn’t be feeling that stupid pressure wherever the fuck in his eyes it was that signaled tears wanted to come to them.

There was no mistaking the pain Castiel felt now. He didn’t want to see this. To see Dean looking so distressed. He wanted to make it go away and make Dean see …

‘Dean, how could I deserve better than you and Sam? You just took me _shopping,_ you’re finding excuses to prolong our stay, Sam took me with him to buy Christmas things, just the fact that you’re both trying so hard to do things for me is _more_ than I deserve. The fact that you two would even think of me …’

‘It’s not enough,’ Dean groaned. ‘It will never _be_ enough. Nothing can make up for the past seven years of bullshit.’

Castiel swallowed very hard and tried to control what he was feeling. He reached out for Dean automatically and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him look up. He looked so … so … _sad_. They had been laughing and talking and enjoying themselves all day, but now this … he didn’t want this.

‘You said tonight we’ll do whatever _I_ want, right?’ Castiel asked, doing his best to sound normal.

‘Anything,’ Dean started. ‘Seriously, anything.’

‘Well,’ Castiel said slowly, ‘ _I_ would like to go inside and take advantage of this trip being for me. We should order take out and watch Grey’s Anatomy and drink the entire mini bar and I can show you the stupid pictures Sam and I took of each other that I have on my phone, actual photographic evidence that thanks to the two of you, I’m having a better time than I have ever had before.’

It took a moment, a tense moment of Castiel hoping for a good outcome, and then he got it. Dean nodded, a hint of a smile maybe even coming back. That small lift of the corner of Dean’s mouth made so much relief wash over Cas that it was like a wave had knocked him backwards.

‘I’d like that,’ said Dean, nodding again. ‘Just know that I’m sorry for all of the –’

‘Dean,’ Cas said warningly.

‘I mean, I’m _glad_ you’re having a good time for once. And I hope you know things will be different from now on. Alright?’

‘Alright,’ said Castiel, nodding. ‘Now can we go in please? I’m starving.’

This statement made Dean laugh. Just as Castiel had intended. He was beginning to feel better now that it was clear Dean was too.

‘You’re an angel. You can’t be starving.’

‘I don’t care. It’s better than saying “I want more food.” That would make me sound gluttonous.’

‘You _are_ gluttonous.’

‘And so are you. So, are we going in or not?’

They did go in, bags in tow, and dumped them on the floor. Then Dean sat on his bed, pulled his laptop out of his duffel and set it up. Cas sat behind him, wondering what he was up to. When it switched on, Dean connected to the free Wi-Fi and looked up places to eat near where they were. He scrolled through his options, seeing most was just generic fast food stuff, until he saw Panda Express. He wanted something he knew Cas wouldn’t have had before.

‘Chinese food,’ Dean considered, looking at Cas over his shoulder. ‘Haven’t had that in a while. Sound good to you?’

‘I’m always open to trying new things,’ Cas replied.

‘Good. This place doesn’t deliver though, so I’ll just head over there real quick and pick us up something. And grab you coffee. Anything in particular you want?’

‘I don’t know what they have.’

‘Then I’ll just get us a wide range of stuff. You okay with waiting here for a few?’

‘Can I use Netflix on your computer?’

‘Of course you can.’

‘Well, then I’m fine.’

‘Good. I won’t be long.’

‘I’m holding you to that.’

Dean left with a final little wave that Cas had never seen him do before. The fact that the door closed before Cas had time to react was a very good thing, because he was sure that the leap he felt in his chest had also been some sort of physical movement he had made.

So Sam and Dean wanted him to feel like they cared about him. Surely they knew that he, on some level, knew that they did? On his good days at least. He did often have thoughts along the lines of “I’m just a burden” or “they’re just taking pity on me” but now he realized they were stupid thoughts. Of _course_ they cared about him. Of course they wanted him around. Castiel recalled vaguely words said to him by Dean a long time ago.

_We’re family. We need you. I need you._

He needed them too. He needed them a lot.

On a whim, he decided to text Sam the words “Thank you.” No context whatever, just a simple thanks. He didn’t expect a reply. He was surprised by the one that said “Any time” just as he was setting up the Netflix.

Cas had changed into a pair of his brand new pajama pants by the time Dean got back, but he still stuck with Supernatural merch for the top. He had thrown on the “NOT MOOSE” shirt and then lastly, his brand new Pikachu slippers. He was sitting cross legged on his bed when Dean dropped the food on the end of the bed and started pulling the containers out.

‘Do you know how to use chopsticks?’ Dean asked as he grabbed those.

‘No,’ Cas replied.

‘Neither do I. That’s why I made sure to grab some plastic forks. Do you want to try the duck or the chicken first?’

‘Whichever. Both.’

Dean laughed. The sound made a sudden burst of joy seep through Cas. He was glad Dean seemed to be feeling more normal again.

Taking note of the fact that Cas had changed, Dean changed into a t-shirt and sweats before he started on food, and then the two of them sat on one bed and watched McDreamy be McAwesome and Bailey be badass and gorged on weird noodles and rice. For some reason, even though they’d been doing this exact thing for two days, it felt different now they were here, away from the bunker and all things hunting related.

Somehow all of the food managed to be eaten. Maybe it was because Cas never seemed to get full. Dean found himself, weirdly, wondering where it all went. Did it just … what? Dissolve and vanish? He was like a bottomless pit, and as far as he knew Cas didn’t have to poop it all back out after. He was oddly jealous of how Cas could eat.

The later it got, the more comfortable they got. It was probably barely even nine, but it was cozy in the small motel room sitting on the small bed. They ended up back against the pillow, crammed together rather tightly. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was the only way they could both see the screen without one of them having to stand or sit on the ground or something.

Pretty soon Dean was too uncomfortable to stay in the position with nodding against his lower back of his shoulders and he had to stand up to stretch out. Cas paused the show, watching Dean curiously, and then made a bold statement.

‘You’re getting old.’

He was joking, of course.

‘Says the billion year old angel.’

‘You do realize you’re closer to forty than you are to thirty.’

‘Again. Billion year old angel.’

‘Your hair will be gray soon.’

‘Billion year old angel.’

‘And you’ll get wrinkles.’

‘Billio– oh shut up.’

He’d caught a glimpse of Cas’s almost _sassy_ smile.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed Cas was still on and moved the laptop out of his way so he could sit more comfortably.

‘Do you want to take a break?’ Cas asked.

‘God, yes. My eyes hurt.’

Dean laughed and turned his head towards Cas, who was chuckling quietly. Dean felt his laugh taper off and turn into a big old goofy grin. Cas’s smile became more prominent. As the moment of shared laughter faded, Dean turned his head to look straight ahead again. Castiel continued to watch him.

‘Dean?’

He hadn’t realized there’d been a question building inside him until his mouth had said Dean’s name without his mind telling it to.

‘Yeah?’

Dean turned to look at Cas again. Cas hesitated. Now his mind had caught up, he wasn’t sure he should be stepping on this territory. But an odd pulsing sensation inside him forced out the question.

‘Do you remember the crypt?’

There was only one crypt he could possibly be taking about.

‘Yeah, Cas. I remember the crypt.’

‘Did I ever tell you I was sorry?’

Dean shook his head.

‘Come on. That was years ago. There’s no need to dig that up again.’

‘But there is though,’ Castiel probed, poking at this dangerous would that could easily become infected with one wrong move. ‘Because I wanted to ask you something.’

No he didn’t. He didn’t want to ask him anything. But he _needed_ to.

‘Ask away.’

‘Did you mean it?’

Dean knew exactly what he was asking even if he hadn’t said it out loud. And he was more than happy to realize what his answer was as a small smile crept up on him again.

‘Yeah. I did.’

A painfully tense moment of silence. Then –

‘Do you still?’

Dean didn’t answer right away. He looked away from Cas, looking straight ahead of him, and then changed positions so that he was facing Cas now. He watched the angel, who looked so worried. He shouldn’t have been worried. He should have _known_.

But how could he have? Dean never said it.

‘Yes.’ He shifted closer to Cas, seeing there was still some fear in his eyes. ‘I need you, Cas.’ A sudden burst of courage. A reach for his friend’s hand. Seeing in Cas’s eyes that it wasn’t enough. ‘I love you.’

_It won’t mean anything. I promise._


	12. The Kissing Kind of Love

Dean knew that wasn’t going to make the look go away. That sad, pained look in those eyes that shouldn’t have been anything other than overflowing with joy. But he would have been kidding himself if he’d said he didn’t see some relief in them.

‘Then why did you say … the other night …’

‘Because I thought it wouldn’t mean anything to _you_.’

Dean realized, now, why Castiel had been so hurt. Because it would mean something to him. Of course it would. He was such a fucking idiot. He had always been such an idiot. He needed to stop already, but it was in his nature.

That was why Cas had said no when Dean, on a whim, had attempted to kiss him. Because Cas had thought it wouldn’t mean anything to _Dean_. Because Cas knew Dean was the type to kiss someone, to do something with someone, without it meaning a damn thing.

Cas had probably thought Dean was jealous that Piper was getting some, so he decided to try his luck with the easiest target. Jesus Christ. Dean was _blind._

‘It would,’ Cas said clearly. ‘Of _course_ it would. It’s like you don’t know me at all.’

‘I do know you,’ said Dean. ‘I do. Or I try. I just don’t understand.’

‘What is there to understand?’ Cas said desperately, ‘I need you too. I love you too. I don’t know how it happened, or why, or when, but I do and it feels like I always have, even before I knew what it meant.’

‘You still deserve better,’ Dean whispered. ‘You deserve so much better.’

‘I don’t _want_ better.’ Castiel felt something wet leak from his eye. ‘I want Dean Winchester.’

‘Please don’t cry.’ His voice cracked. ‘Don’t you dare fucking cry.’

Dean was very convincing, with his own eyes started to leak like some stupid broken tap that leaked more the tighter you screwed it. And then they were both _sobbing_ and it was the most painful thing either one of them heard. Years of pent up emotions, happiness, sadness, anger, guilt, jealously, pain, longing, need and so much more just came pouring out. It wasn’t the first time Dean had cried over Castiel, but this was the first time Castiel had cried over Dean Winchester.

He needed to be touched, to be held, and Dean was there. Dean had always been there. He’d just been too ignorant to see it. But Dean was here now and he was safe, safe in Dean’s arms, safe for the first time since he’d laid a hand on him on hell and that was all that mattered. Dean. It was always Dean. It would always be Dean. _Of course_ it was Dean.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but Castiel’s sobs subsided and his tears became silent. And Dean’s arms were still there. His warmth was still there. He was still there.

Castiel wished, for once, that the human thing of sleep would take over. He wished he could fall into unconsciousness right here and right now, because the rush of pent up emotion that had been building inside him for years had finally been let out and he felt lighter than he ever had. He felt small and he felt vulnerable and he felt like that was okay, he _knew_ that was okay, because that’s what humanity was all about. Dean had managed to teach it to him after all.

Cas sat up, but Dean was still holding onto him. Dean’s eyes were closed. The freckles on his eyelids were one of the most glorious thing Castiel had ever seen. His eyes even more so when hey flickered open at Cas’s movement.

‘Do you feel better now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Me too.’

Their smiles were shaky, their faces still damp but rapidly drying, and Dean’s nose was running according to how much he was sniffling. But Castiel did feel so much better now. The relief he felt so go it was almost a physical thing, he could feel the pressure leaving his body. It was like bliss.

‘So what now?’ Castiel asked, steadying his voice back to its usual manner of steadiness. ‘What do we do now that we’ve … what did we just do?’

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the adorkable angel in front of him. Huh. Adorkable. That was new. The dork part wasn’t, but the adorable part was – at least it was new of him to acknowledge it.

‘I honestly have no idea,’ Dean admitted. He glanced behind him at the still open laptop, the screen now dark. ‘Grey’s Anatomy?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

Simple as that.

They were much more comfortable now, though. Dean put the laptop on the bedside table and he lay on his side behind Cas, who also lay on his side but a little lower down so the top of his head was just beneath Dean’s chin. Dean’s arm was over him, strong and unmoving, sort of like Alex Karev’s bold attitude. Those around him felt it strongly and he wasn’t about to change any time soon.

So that’s why Cas liked Alex so much. He was bold, unchanging, but had some much potential for development. Just like Dean. Except Alex was much more of an asshole.  

So they hadn’t drank anything in the minibar and Dean hadn’t seen any of the highly embarrassing pictures from the trip with Sam, but this was good too. This was _better_. Feeling Dean’s heartbeat against his back and hearing his breathing quieten when he eventually fell asleep was better any day. Cas didn’t dare move the whole night in case he woke Dean, who seemed like he was sleeping easy for once. If Castiel himself required sleep, he knew he would be sleeping easier than he had ever slept. An enormous weight had been lifted from him and he knew things would just keep getting easier from now on.

Until somewhere, something in Cas’s head clicked, and everything inside him changed.

When Dean woke up he was momentarily confused as to why his eyes hurt and why he had his arm draped across someone until he realized that someone was Cas. That was cool. Cas was cool. He and Cas were cool.

Dean said up with a groan and Castiel sat up at last. He looked back at Dean wordlessly as Dean stretched. He was unsure of whether the night had seemed long or short. He’d been trying not to think about it. Episodes had passed and so had thoughts about the episodes, along with one thought always behind the ones in his conscious mind.

_Dean loves you._

But what does that mean? The conscious thought would always follow.

Well, clearly it meant that they could lay on a bed together in a position Cas was almost certain was called “spooning”. Pre-“I love you” Dean and Cas would never have done that. It had taken two fumbly, “I’m fine on the chair” sessions of them watching Netflix together for Dean to actually accept Cas’s offer to both sit on the bed and another two incredibly brief sessions, brief being twenty minutes or less, for him to accept Cas’s offer of sharing a blanket.

And then the night of their first proper binge together happened, sharing a bed and sharing a blanket and Dean had, out of nowhere, almost kissed Cas in the middle of Orange Is The New Black and promised him it wouldn’t mean anything. Cas remembered pushing Dean away as he continued trying, grabbing Cas’s face in his hands, until Cas’s third ‘Dean, no’ got through to him leaving him irrationally angry, making him leave in a rage.

And last night the l-word happened, tears happened, and it seemed like they could do anything.

And now it was morning, and Castiel was wondering what exactly it all meant and then suddenly if it was weird that he was watching Dean stretch with a moderate interest in his movements.

‘What time is it?’ Dean asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Castiel checked the time on Dean’s laptop, still open and playing, just before he paused it.

‘A little after nine,’ Cas replied.

Dean moved himself to the edge of the bed and leaned forward, blinking, his eyes adjusting to the light. He was awake, but not awake awake yet. It always took him a minute, like his brain had to finish loading or something along those lines. Once it was fully loaded, he looked at Cas and said one word.

‘Shoes.’

Cas replied with the stupidest fucking thing he could have possibly come out with.

‘You love me how?’

Apparently his brain, while on the surface was taking in and watching Grey’s Anatomy, had been very busy all night, like it was waiting for Dean to wake up so they could talk when they were both calm and collected rather than desperate and sobbing.

‘What?’ Dean asked, taken aback by the sudden and blatant question.

‘I mean what kind of love?’

‘Dude. Let a guy wake up and clear his head first, would you?’

‘But I need to know,’ Cas pleaded, moving right up next to Dean and facing Dean’s side, since Dean was still sitting facing away from the bed. ‘what _kind_? The appreciative kind? The familial kind? Or,’ and here, he knew he may be asking a stupid question considering past occurrences, ‘the kissing kind? Or some other kind? I don’t understand.’

Maybe his brain telling him they could discuss it while they were both “calm and collected” was badly timed. Cas was still desperate and Dean was still groggy.

Dean turned his head to look at Cas and the angel’s worry was evident. Maybe they shouldn’t have stopped their discussion where they had last night and talked it through. It was clear to Dean that Castiel had been waiting several hours for this.

What kind of love _did_ he feel? He didn’t even like the word, but it was a good question. He did appreciate Cas, he did consider him family, but he did want to kiss him too. He often found himself accidentally staring at Cas’s lips, or checking him out, or thinking thoughts he didn’t usually think about his friends.

He also knew that “the kissing kind” was most likely a synonym for another word Dean disliked that began with an “r”.  That kind was something Dean wasn’t as experienced with as others, but whenever he had acknowledged it with anyone in the past he wasn’t completely clueless. He just wasn’t big on the “r” stuff.

‘The kissing kind, I guess,’ Dean decided. Seeing understanding and some calm now in Cas’s eyes, he asked, ‘so can I go shower now or what? I think I have a food hangover.’

‘Go,’ Castiel urged. ‘I’ll just wait here.’

Dean nodded and headed for the bathroom. Castiel watched him go and stared at the closed bathroom door for a while.

The kissing kind. Obviously. Since Dean had tried to kiss him once. But what did that _mean_? Cas was starting to frustrate himself now with all the questions he had and all the clarification he needed.

Yes, the kissing kind meant kissing. Then why hadn’t there been kissing since what they could only call their confessions? Or was Cas supposed to initiate it? Or what? It just got even more confusing when he thought about the fact that as far as he knew, Dean was heterosexual. And as for himself? What the hell was he? Did he want to kiss Dean? Maybe. Probably. Okay, definitely. But was it just Dean, or did he want to kiss other people? Yes. He’d thought about it before. It’s not like he was just discovering the activity.

Alex Karev was pretty. He wouldn’t mind kissing Alex. Or George. Or Derek. Or Connor Walsh from How To Get Away With Murder. Oliver looked like he enjoyed it anyway.

But now he had to consider: did he want to kiss anyone female? Kissing Meg had been weird. An experiment of his, just to see what it was like. He wouldn’t want to do it again. But that was Meg. The demon. There were plenty of other women out there – like Izzie Stevens. He liked Izzie the best out of the female characters in Grey’s Anatomy. She was nice and she was very pretty, but Castiel didn’t feel like he would kiss her if he was given the opportunity. Or any woman that he thought of for that matter.

Figuring out who he wanted to kiss was scary. And he hadn’t even dared approach the subject of wanting to kiss people of other gender identities. He didn’t even know of anyone who identified as anything other than strictly male or female. Except maybe Ruby Rose from Orange Is The New Black who he had heard was gender fluid. But he didn’t want to kiss her either.

Gender identities were confusing. Sexualities were confusing. The fact that he was supposed to figure out his own was confusing.

The kissing kind of love was confusing.

But he did love Dean. A lot.

And Dean was very pretty.

Just as Castiel had that thought, Dean appeared at the bathroom door with a towel around his hips and he got even more frustrated than he already was.

Dean wasn’t pretty. Dean was _hot_.

Cas tried to focus only on the pretty, which was on Dean’s face. Stare at his face. Just stare at his face.

‘Hey Cas, I just had a thought – do you know what time they stop serving breakfast in this place?’ Dean asked.

 ‘I, uh, I don’t know,’ Castiel replied. Suddenly, he felt his face flush and an odd yet familiar stirring somewhere else. ‘Would you like me to go find out?’

‘Nah,’ Dean said offhandedly. ‘We’ll just go out.’

Dean disappeared again and Castiel heard the shower turn back on and he could calm down slightly. So Dean had paused his shower just to ask a question? Couldn’t he just have waited until he’d finished to ask?

Dean was confusing.

Cas stopped thinking about it altogether and turned back to Grey’s Anatomy as a distraction. He wondered if maybe Dean would be open for discussing it and helping him out. Probably not. Sam, though, would probably help him out. Dean just didn’t seem the type to want to discuss those kinds of things.

The relief Cas had felt from the events of the previous night was long gone. Of course he should have known it wouldn’t last. Once one thing was sorted out, another thing always arose to mess everything up again.

Dean seemed to be a little more alert and in a better mood when he left the bathroom looking refreshed. For this, Castiel was grateful. Maybe by analyzing Dean’s behavior he could try to make more sense of where they were at now.

_What had last night meant?_

Cas just didn’t know.

‘Cas?’ Dean asked, sounding slightly confused.

Castiel looked at him.

‘Yes?’

‘Aren’t you gonna get dressed?’

Castiel had been so lost in his own thoughts that he’d completely forgotten about that. He suddenly wanted to get away from Dean as fast as possible, which seemed completely insane since he’d wanted to be so close to him last night, not even moving so he wouldn’t disturb him.

‘Oh, yes,’ Castiel said quickly.

He grabbed one of his shopping bags from yesterday and bolted into the bathroom, closing the door so fast he was lucky that it didn’t slam.

Embarrassed. That’s what he felt. Embarrassed about how much he’d probed last night and then about how much he shared and then about how much he cried. And he was embarrassed about how damn confused he was now.

Space cats and slim fit blue jeans and the hi-tops with the skulls. They all happened to be in the bag he’d grabbed in his haste and so that was the outfit he’d chosen. He tried to seem less flustered when he left the bathroom.

‘Looking good,’ Dean commented as Cas emerged.

_But would he have said that before last night, though?_

Of course he would have. He’d commented on Cas’s appearance before. It’s not like anything was different now. Dean Winchester loved him, he loved Dean Winchester and Dean Winchester knew that, but of course nothing was different.

‘This feels …’ super confusing because I have no idea how to act around you now but let’s just pretend I’m talking about clothing ‘… odd.’

‘Yeah, it’s pretty weird seeing you dressed like that,’ Dean agreed, looking him up and down with a half-smile.

‘Is it too weird?’ Meaning, is it weird for you too? Are you also over thinking everything? Or should we both be on the same page and I just don’t understand because I don’t think the same was as you do?

‘Way too weird,’ said Dean, nodding. ‘But good weird. The kind of weird you can pull off and get used to.’

 _But what do you mean?_ Cas pleaded silently.

‘Okay,’ said Cas uneasily, hoping his apprehension wasn’t as obvious as he felt like it was. ‘So … breakfast?’

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed, grabbing his jacket from the floor by his bed, or rather the bed he had intended to sleep in but didn’t. ‘Let’s go. I think I saw an IHOP about ten minutes from here last night.’

‘What’s an IHOP?’ And what’s going to happen now? Any acknowledgement of what happened last night? Or of the position in which we watched Grey’s Anatomy together and then you fell asleep? No? Okay.

‘It’s a breakfast place, Cas. Man, I’ve gotta educate you on places to eat. So are we going or what?’

He would have rathered Dean educate him on the “I love you.”

‘Yes, let’s go.’

When they got to IHOP, Castiel was so overwhelmed by all of the options that he momentarily forgot his confusion and general unease that he couldn’t seem to shake, but once he’d made up his mind on what he wanted he was right back to staring at Dean whenever Dean wasn’t looking and trying to read him. Dean seemed to be acting the same as he had yesterday, or the day before, or on any given day really. It was beginning to get on Cas’s nerves, but he refused to ask anything else about whatever was going on. He was just going to act as he would if it hadn’t happened.

There was a shoe store less than five minutes from the IHOP they were at so they headed there straight after breakfast.

‘What’s your shoe size?’ Dean asked on their way inside.

Castiel tried to recall, but he couldn’t.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never shopped for shoes before.’

‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll just check the size of the ones you’re wearing when we get inside.’

Once inside, Dean discovered Cas’s feet were bigger than his own which was something he’d never noticed up until now. That was interesting to think about … now they knew who had the bigger … shoes.

They got two pairs of sturdy boots that would most likely last years and not be worn down during whatever running or fighting or whatever else Cas would be doing in the future depending on what circumstances he got himself into what with wanting to hunt more with Sam and Dean and all. They also got two pairs of casual shoes for just doing whatever, plus, (God forbid, Dean thought,) a few pairs of converse that Cas liked the look of. They were similar to the hi-tops he’d gotten at Hot Topic, which he also liked very much. They did happen to look good on him, but the fact that they were what Dean often referred to in his head as “the shoes of ignorant youths and moody teenagers” was mildly horrifying to him.

He mentioned this to Cas on the way out, Cas frowned at him.

‘“Ignorant youths”?’ he quoted questioningly. ‘That makes you sound very old, Dean.’

Dean glared at him but understood that it was a joke. Cas only half-smiled.

They decided that after the shoe shopping it was time to go back home, even though Dean seemed to want to stay. Cas would ordinarily have wanted to, and he did want to, but he also wanted to talk to Sam. And, if that failed, he wanted a while alone with Google which seemed to be a good source of information for a lot of things, so maybe it would do for this too.

They talked less on the drive back which gave Cas time to get started on the books he’d brought with him. Dean didn’t ask about them. While reading, another part of Castiel’s brain registered that Charlie would be a good person to talk to about what he needed to talk about and figure out. But he couldn’t talk to Charlie unless he broke into heaven or something and that was obviously never going to happen.

So far, the first book in the series seemed interesting. Cas liked how this Katniss character seemed like she would do anything for her family. It reminded him of the Winchesters to an extent. The world of the Winchesters was as far from being like Panem as it could get, but if he analyzed enough as he read he was able to find ways in certain gestures or lines in the story for them to relate to the brothers.

Although Cas felt tense, the silence between him and Dean felt comfortable. He was still glad to have gotten all of what he said off of his chest, but he was still embarrassed about how it had come out. Yet still, Dean didn’t seem to be. Dean was the hardest thing on the planet to understand.

When they arrived back, Cas’s greeting Sam was rushed as he and all of his new things disappeared into his bedroom almost instantly, declaring he was going to put all of his stuff in his closet and dresser. Neither Sam nor Dean stopped him for which he was grateful. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get Sam alone. Usually it wouldn’t be hard, but there was no telling what was going on in Dean’s head right now so Cas wanting to talk to Sam alone might seem suspicious or it might seem completely normal. There was no telling and it was vaguely frightening.

When Castiel did finally emerge in pursuit of Sam, he was lucky to find him alone after he’d wandered around for a while. He encountered Dean along the way, when he checked the library. Dean was in there pouring over The First Book again.

‘What are you doing?’ he’d asked.

‘Re-reading the stuff about the other victims,’ Dean replied. ‘I’m trying to see if there’s a pattern or if there’s any hints or anything else we can work with after Christmas.’

‘I thought you were supposed to be taking a break over Christmas.’

‘I thought so too. Sam told me to leave him alone while he attempted to blow up the kitchen, you were busy putting your stuff away and this was there so I just figured I’d give it a shot.’

‘Sam’s in the kitchen?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘I wanted to …’ Cas hesitated. If he said “ask him something” Dean might get suspicious. ‘help,’ he finished lamely, then added, ‘I mean, help with whatever Christmas activity it is that he’s doing.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Dean said with raised eyebrows, looking highly amused.

‘Thank you.’

The kitchen, thankfully, was messy but hadn’t been blown up yet and Sam was in there with his laptop and it sounded like he was watching some video. There was a large raw bird beside the laptop, which Cas assumed was a turkey, but he couldn’t be sure because he’d never seen a whole one raw before apart from in shops where they were in packages.

‘Hey, Cas,’ Sam greeted, barely letting his eyes flicker away from the video he seemed to be concentrating on.

‘What are you doing?’ Cas asked curiously.

‘Trying to figure out how to stuff and cook a turkey. I bought six of them to practice on.’

‘That’s a lot of practice,’ Castiel commented walking to stand across from him on the other side of the surface he was working at. He hesitated now, seeing that Sam was busy, but it’s not like he was busy with something huge … and if Cas didn’t do it now, he’d end up leaving it days and things would be incredibly weird. ‘Can I talk to you about something?’

Sam, sensing the tone, paused the video he was watching and slowly closed his laptop.

‘Sure, Cas. You know you can talk to me about anything.’

Cas hadn’t actually known that, he’d just hoped it, but it was very reassuring to hear it. He wondered why his heart was beating so fast. He felt like he was building up to it inside himself and his mouth suddenly felt very dry, even though he knew that, as an angel, he didn’t get thirsty.

‘It’s not something we’ve ever even touched upon before,’ Castiel said seriously and steadily. ‘And it’s quite a … personal thing.’

Sam folded his arms, nodding.

‘Okay. Hit me with it.’

Cas took a deep breath and decided to just get it over with. Like ripping off a band aid, pulling a knife out of his chest or, a better comparison being, asking Dean all of those questions he’d asked him last night.

‘It’s about sexual orientation.’

Sam looked briefly puzzled, or taken aback, or both. It took him a moment, but when he replied completely seriously in a non-judgmental manner, Cas felt a little better.

‘What about it?’

‘Well … basically … hypothetically … how would one go about … figuring out what theirs is?’

It wasn’t in an unkind way that Sam asked, ‘you mean yours?’

Cas nodded meekly.

‘I’m indifferent to sexual orientation, but I’d really like to know mine.’

Sam smiled at him kindly, which calmed Cas down even more. It seemed as though Sam wasn’t going to find this annoying, or stupid, or just plain odd, and Cas had been considering the fact that two grown men talking about this would be an uncomfortable topic for most.

‘Why don’t you sit at the table and I’ll make coffee and we can have some mince pies and talk about this.’

‘Mince pies?’

‘Christmas stuff. I got some yesterday.’

Castiel nodded slowly and headed off towards the table. He watched Sam making coffee with an odd, cold feeling in his stomach. He was calm about the conversation to follow, yes, but he was still worried that if he worded things badly Sam might get the wrong idea. Cas didn’t want to bring up the fact that it was Dean that had caused this confusion, or perhaps make Sam think _Sam_ had caused it, because that was far from the truth. Castiel loved Sam also, but not the same way that he loved Dean. It was completely different. He saw Sam as family, he saw Dean as more.

When Sam put two mugs on the table along with a plate covered in small pies, he sat across from Cas and rested his elbows on the table.

‘Eat. Drink. Relax. Tell me what’s on your mind.’

Almost obediently, Cas picked up one of these “mince pies” and took a sip of his coffee before he bit into it. He had been expecting beef, as mince was generally made from cows, but it was some kind of fruit. He wasn’t going to ask questions.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Cas began, ‘and trying to discover my own sexual orientation, but am finding it difficult to do so as I don’t understand what all of it means.’

‘What don’t you understand?’ Sam asked, sipping his coffee and surveying Cas curiously. ‘Or, better, what _do_ you understand?’

‘I understand that there are people in the world who seem to think God thinks anyone who is not heterosexual is going to hell,’ Cas began, ‘but I also understand that is completely untrue. I understand that there are ignorant people who are uncomfortable with anyone who is not heterosexual, which seems to be the normal thing for most, but I don’t understand why. And I understand that there are more than just heterosexual and homosexual out there, that there are a number of different sexualities, but I don’t know what they are and that’s where I begin to get confused.’

Sam nodded, listening intently. Cas felt a rush of affection for him.

‘Well, first thing’s first, it’s _way_ more complicated than just sexual orientation, but we’ll get to that in a minute,’ Sam started, folding his hands in front of him in a business-like fashion. ‘First off you need to figure out if you experience sexual attraction, and if so, to what extent. Understand?’ Castiel nodded, so Sam continued. ‘So – sorry for the blatant question – _do_ you experience sexual attraction?’

Cas thought over the question for a moment. He understood what it meant – basically, Sam had asked him if there were any people he wanted to have sex with. And for a long time, that answer would have been no. Castiel in the beginning didn’t think about that kind of thing at all. He remembered that time Dean had taken him out intending to, as Dean would but it, “get him laid.” At the time, he hadn’t understood why, or had a particular interest in it, but now if he was in that situation he did think that he would like to have sex again if he were to die the next day.

‘Yes,’ Castiel answered confidently.

‘So that rules out asexuality,’ said Sam, nodding, mentally taking note.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s when you don’t experience sexual attraction.’

‘Oh.’ Cas thought it over. He could understand that. ‘I think, perhaps, several years ago I might have been asexual. But I’m not anymore. Can that happen?’

‘Anything and everything in this area can change with time,’ Sam informed him. ‘It can’t change all at once, at least I doubt it can, but it can change slowly. Did you notice it happening or did it just … seem like it came up over night?’

Cas cast his mind back again. As time went on, yes, he did notice changes. The first time he’d maybe experienced sexual attraction was when he had discovered that porn movie or whatever it was. The pizza man and the babysitter. A brief thought had crossed his mind, thinking that maybe perhaps he would like to be the babysitter in that situation. And then Dean had spoken, and Cas had looked at him and felt an odd stirring and as he looked back at the screen, suddenly he had a “boner”. And rather than wanting to be the babysitter, he suddenly wanted to know what it was like if he were to be the pizza man, but with _Dean_ as the babysitter.

 _Oh God,_ thought Cas. He had a feeling he knew where his mind was going. He tried to pull it back from that direction.

It started to happen more after that. His Meg-kissing experiment had seemed to be an education. He didn’t care for acting the pizza man with Meg as the babysitter, so had deemed that the end of it. Until the next time he looked at Dean for an extended period of time and noticed he had freckles on his ears and on his fingers and started wondering where else those freckles extended to, and then it was back.

Then as more time went on, it wasn’t just Dean. He started to notice when people, all people, were attractive. And began to consider others in the babysitter position, just briefly, just a slight wondering thought. And then it was more than slight. Then, years later, with April, it was definitely more than slight. But with April he had been wishing she was someone else. He hadn’t specified who in his mind, he just knew that April was attractive, but she wasn’t someone he would ever consider for the roll of babysitter, or the roll she had just played in their intercourse.

Hell, he’d even considered Sam when he noticed the younger Winchester brother was pretty. But he valued his friendship too much to dare thinking about it. He’d feel too weird about it.

‘It changed slowly,’ Castiel decided. ‘It took a long time. But I noticed it happening.’

Sam nodded again.

‘And are you attracted to people often? Or rarely?’

Castiel thought again. It had been rare in the past, he knew that for sure, but now … there were many, many people he saw, even just passersby in the street, that he deemed attractive. And out of those people, the ones he got a better look at, there were some that he was attracted _to_ on a purely aesthetic level.

‘Often.’

Cas felt vaguely flustered admitting that. But Sam didn’t seem to judge him for it.

‘And are they just people you already have developed a bond with, or is it just … anyone?’

Castiel felt a little flurry of panic at the word “bond”. But he didn’t even have to think about it before replying with a simple ‘no.’ Though he did wonder how exactly Sam could think there were _enough_ people that he had a so-called “bond” with to experience this “often”.  It was just … often and it was anyone.

‘Okay, lastly, have you paid any attention to the gender of people you’re _sexually_ attracted to? We’ll more onto other types of attraction in a moment, but this is purely about people you’d have sex with.’

Cas’s face grew hot at the words and he couldn’t look Sam in the eyes after he’d said those words, as Cas thought back yet again.

He had only ever kissed Meg and had sex with April and they were both attractive and he could see that yet no, those were two people he would not like to have sex with. There were many attractive people he would not have sex with, and most of them were female. There were some males that he wouldn’t have sex with either because they were attractive but not … could he call it his “type”? But he did discover that, if thinking only of people who’s birth sex and their gender identity were the same, it was just men he would have sex with. And, he supposed, if it was someone who was assigned female at birth yet transitioned to male later in life, depending on whether he found them attractive or not, he would probably have sex with those people too.

Cas didn’t know _why_ it was just men he wanted to have sex with. It just _was_. He felt a sudden wave of happiness wash over him upon discovering this.

‘Sam,’ he said, suddenly filled with a confidence and an odd sense of pride, ‘I think I’m – no, I’m _sure –_ that I’m gay.’ He suddenly felt an urge to defend himself even though Sam hadn’t even responded yet, and hastened to babble, ‘I know I’ve never even … even … kissed a man before, but the thing is, you see, I –’

‘Woah, woah, Cas, calm down,’ Sam said, making calming hand gestures. Cas stopped talking, feeling suddenly nervous. ‘Listen. That’s great. That’s really great.’

‘It is?’

‘Of course it is,’ Sam said supportively. ‘It’s good that you know your own sexuality.’

‘I just don’t understand why I was confused about it,’ Castiel said thoughtfully, frowning to himself. ‘It seems so obvious now.’

‘Maybe you were confusing sexual orientation with romantic orientation,’ Sam suggested.

‘What’s that?’

‘Romantic orientation as in … what genders you’d date but not have sex with. For example, some people who identify as gay are actually biromantic or panromantic because they wouldn’t have sex with anyone of a different gender, but they could date them, fall in love with them and so on. And some people don’t experience romantic attraction at all.’

‘I feel like I have the ability to fall in love with anyone regardless or their gender identity,’ Cas considered out loud. ‘I mean, I love Meredith Grey and think Derek Shepherd is an idiot for leaving her and if I were him in that situation I know I would want to stay with her, to date her and to love her, but if it were me I personally would not have sex with her because, well, y’know. I’m gay.’

It was oddly satisfying to say the words.

‘So you’re panromantic if you feel like you can love someone regardless of gender,’ Sam informed him helpfully. ‘But it’s up to you to decide what you are or what you want to call yourself. You can figure it out as you go along if you ever end up … with someone.’

Castiel nodded. He had a feeling who, if anyone, he would want to end up with eventually … it was Dean, of course. He understood now. He loved Dean _romantically_. And … if Dean had been honest with saying it was “the kissing kind of love” … then Dean and him could … maybe?

Now was not the time to think about it. He had to talk about that with Dean himself.

‘Thank you, Sam,’ Cas said sincerely, then inquisitively decided to ask, ‘how do you know so much about this?’

‘I looked it all up a few years back when, I, uh,’ Sam looked down, laughing somewhat, ‘I had this crush on a guy. I learned that I’m pretty sure I’m panromantic and pansexual. No big deal, though. I prefer women, but the rest is … there, I guess.’

Castiel nodded and stood up immediately.

‘Thank you,’ he repeated. ‘ _Thank you_.’

Sam stood up, laughing now.

‘You’re welcome. I’m gonna get back to the turkey now – wanna help?’

Cas shook his head quickly.

‘No. Thank you. Maybe next time you practice – I have to go, thanks – _thank you_ …’

Cas was out of the kitchen before Sam could reply. Still laughing at his friend’s sudden burst of joy and feeling joy himself at the fact that he’d been able to help, he went back to his turkey, lowkey wondering if Cas’s gratefulness would be any different if he knew that the guy that had caused Sam to look up all of this stuff was Gabriel. Probably not. Shrugging, he went back to the turkey tutorial video.

Castiel, on the other hand, was rushing through the bunker with his sights set on the library. He hoped Dean was still in there. Now he’d figured it out, figured all of it out, there was one thing he wanted to do, _needed_ to do, that he was pretty sure he’d needed to do for years.

Dean was in the library still and he was staring down at The First Book with an odd expression Cas didn’t have time to catch before it was replaced by one of surprise at Cas’s sudden entrance, causing him to jump to his feet.

‘Cas, there’s –’

Cas cut him off.

‘No. Don’t talk.’

‘But –’

The second time Castiel didn’t tell Dean not to talk. He _stopped_ him from talking. He strode across the room full of his new found confidence and grabbed Dean’s face, stood on his toes just slightly to be at Dean’s same height, and kissed him.

It was warm, and it was soft yet at the same time thanks to Dean’s stubble it was scratchy. Cas had never thought about how it would _feel_ to kiss Dean, or any man for that matter. He felt Dean’s hands on his waist, steady, and felt Dean kissing him back. He didn’t expect to be able to tell the difference between when he was kissing and when he was being kissed back, but he could definitely tell the difference, and he felt as though his heart would explode.

He didn’t stop until he ran out of breath and he took a step back to see Dean’s reaction. Dean’s hands slowly dropped back to his sides and Cas was horrified at first when he saw Dean’s reaction wasn’t exactly a good one, but less horrified when he realized how morbid he looked.

This wasn’t about the kiss. This was something that was in The First Book.

‘What is it?’ Castiel asked seriously, all other thoughts suddenly out of his mind.

‘The fourth victim,’ Dean said darkly. ‘I think I know who the fourth victim is.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Crowley.’

Cas felt his face fall into almost an exact replica of Dean’s. He knew this wasn’t good news. He knew this wasn’t bad news. He just knew this was … news.

‘Well,’ Castiel stated with a sigh, ‘ _fuck_.’


	13. A Little Gay

‘I know,’ said Dean. With a groan, he sat down again. ‘I know. That son of a bitch gave us this book knowing full well he was in it and he didn’t even bother mentioning it.’

Cas pulled up a chair and sat across from Dean.

‘What was The Savior to him?’

‘A random chick who summoned him and they became friends. She used to talk to him about all the ways she wanted to torture people … there’s very graphic descriptions,’ Dean winced, looking at the book again and distastefully turning a page. ‘They’re even worse now that I know who she was talking to. And we’re mentioned,’ he added. ‘All three of us.’

‘We are?’

‘Yeah. She told him we’d come looking for him during the apocalypse – this was way before that – and he said that we wouldn’t. She vanished the night we did, never seen by him again.’

‘And how do you know it’s Crowley?’

‘It mentions a mother. An abandoning mother. And that she’s a witch. That’s the most obvious part and it’s true that could be a lot of witches since none of them seem too nice, but if you analyze it, it mentions a lot of other stuff not in so many words. That’s how I figured out the apocalypse thing. It didn’t actually say “hey, the first three victims need your help with Lucifer and Michael’s bitchfight.” It just hinted, subtly, barely in understandable English.’

‘Have you contacted Crowley about it? Just to be sure?’

‘I texted him just before you came in. I was about to go look for you and Sam to see what you guys make of this. He hasn’t replied.’

‘Maybe you should try calling.’

‘Yeah. I’ll try that on the way to ask Sam what he thinks.’ Dean started scrolling through his phone as they left the library and found Crowley’s number. ‘What do _you_ think?’

‘I think that he could tell us more about his experience and more about her that we didn’t already know. Or ask him if he’s found her since. What was her name?’

‘Emma.’

‘Emma … she doesn’t seem to be following any sort of pattern, does she?’

‘Doesn’t seem like it. Damn it!’ Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it in frustration when it came up “BUSY”. ‘He’s not picking up.’

‘Did you really expect him to?’

‘He picked up for Sam.’

‘Maybe he likes Sam better than you.’

‘That’s likely,’ Dean replied sarcastically. ‘I’ll try again later.’

They continued to the kitchen in silence, tense silence, Cas half thinking about the whole Crowley thing and half thinking about when he had kissed Dean just now. There was a fluttering in his stomach from it still, which he related to butterflies, and he wanted to do it again but this thing with The First Book was more important after all; dirt on The Savior made it easier to … find her? Summon her? Whatever.

Sam, in the kitchen, had his hand up a turkey’s ass. Dean couldn’t help his automatic eyebrow raise at the ridiculous sight and momentarily dropped the Crowley thing to make fun of the situation.

‘Sorry for interrupting. Do you two need a minute alone?’

‘Ha ha,’ Sam said in a monotone.

‘No, seriously. I didn’t take you for someone who’s into fisting. I hope you used lube.’

‘Screw you.’

‘All jokes aside,’ said Dean, walking to stand across from Sam with Cas at his side, ‘get your hand out of that poor bird’s ass. I found out something important.’

Sam slowly extracted his hand and went to wash it while looking at Dean with a serious look.

‘Oh yeah? What did you find out?’

‘That Crowley is in The First Book.’

‘Oh yeah, I know. I figured that out.’

Dean frowned at him.

‘You did?’

‘Yeah. So?’

‘So … you didn’t bother telling us?’

‘It’s not like him being in the book is such a shock. He’s the King of Hell. It makes sense that he’s in a book about heaven and hell.’

‘And you didn’t think he could help us find The Savior?’

Dean was getting frustrated at Sam’s casualness.

‘Find her? Dean, when it’s time, she’ll show up and get rid of The Darkness. We don’t have to do anything about it anymore. It’s done.’

‘It is not done!’

‘I have to agree with Dean here,’ Castiel chipped in.

‘Okay, so maybe it’s not done. But there’s nothing we can do so can we just leave it until after the New Year, please?’ Sam asked, looking thoroughly tired of the subject.

‘The _New Year_?’ Dean asked in exasperation.

‘Well we can’t do Christmas without actually doing something for the New Year!’

‘But it’s the twentieth! New Year’s Eve is eleven days away!’

‘You can forget about it for eleven days. Come on, Dean. There’s nothing we can do either way.’

Dean stared at him in complete and utter disbelief. Then he took a deep breath and let it go.

‘Fine. _Fine_. Let’s just sit and wait. Have it your way.’

Dean swept out of the room in a huff, muttering under his breath as he went. Sam and Cas exchanged a look. Sam raised his eyebrows.

‘I’ll talk to him,’ Cas promised, turning to follow Dean out.

Dean looked very annoyed and looked at Cas when he joined his side.

‘Can you believe him?’ he asked. ‘Trying _this damn hard_ to avoid thinking about the fact that he’s in that stupid book? People’s lives are at stake here. If Amara isn’t _stopped_ and _soon_ …’

‘Maybe he genuinely believes that there’s nothing we can do,’ Castiel said reasonably. ‘Because he’s right in a way. We don’t know enough about The Savior to find her. We could talk to Crowley and see if he knows anything, but I have a feeling he knows just about as much as we do.’

Dean groaned.

‘Cas, we can’t do _nothing_.’

‘We won’t do nothing. You can keep calling Crowley, keep texting him, but if that doesn’t work we can summon him … after Christmas.’

‘Seriously? _After_?’

‘But before New Years,’ said Cas. ‘It’s a compromise.’

‘I guess …’

Dean sighed deeply, stopping in his tracks and looking at Cas. He looked less angry now, more like he’d just given up and accepted it.

‘Why are you always right?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘I’m not always right. I’m just right this time.’

As Dean continued walking, his arms by his sides, he felt his hand brush against Cas’s next to him briefly. He swallowed nervously. They continued walking side by side, unsure of their exact destination until they reached Dean’s bedroom and lingered outside of the door. Dean looked at it as if he was surprised it was there.

‘Wanna hang out?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head towards the door.

Castiel looked from Dean to the door back to Dean. They’d never actually hung out in Dean’s room before. Or actually “hung out” without it being clarified exactly what they were doing. He found himself nodding.

‘Sure.’

Dean opened the door and headed inside. Once Cas had followed him in, he closed it. They both headed over to the bed and sat down in silence side by side. There really was nothing to be done in this room. There wasn’t even a TV.

Castiel turned towards Dean, who sensed the movement and turned to look at him too. Dean titled his head to the side and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Castiel squinted at him, mimicking his head tilting actions. Dean smirked.

‘Stop it,’ said Cas.

‘Stop what?’ Dean asked, a look of indifference on his face now.

‘You know exactly what you’re doing.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘You’re … you’re just …’

‘Trying to make you do _this_?’

Dean reached out for Cas’s face and Castiel knew exactly what he was about to do and he was ready for it. Dean’s hand caressed Cas’s cheek and Castiel felt himself start to melt but he resisted the urge to close his eyes and instead kept them locked on Dean’s. As Dean got closer and closer, Cas’s eyes wandered towards Dean’s lips, which brushed his own, barely.

‘Cas,’ Dean mumbled, so close that Cas could feel his words on his lips, ‘what are we doing?’

Castiel whispered, ‘I don’t know.’

Dean leaned back and slowly let his hand fall away. Cas felt like it’s lack of presence was burning his cheek and it was hard not to rub where the hand been. He felt relief in hearing Dean ask what he himself had been wondering all day.

‘Last night …’ Dean started, hesitating.

‘Last night I meant what I said,’ Castiel said rather shakily. ‘And this morning.’

Dean nodded.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Me too.’ More hesitation. ‘What are we, Cas?’

He hated asking that question. That was a question he had never wanted to have to ask anyone.

‘Friends who love each other,’ Castiel replied, not looking at Dean’s eyes and instead staring at his lips. He couldn’t help it. They looked moist and darker than usual. ‘The kind of love where I know at least one of us wants to … kiss the other. Except he doesn’t know to what extent the other wants it …’

Dean nodded slowly.

‘I think that about covers it,’ he agreed, his eyes flickering from Cas’s seemingly half-closed eyelids and onto his lips, where he knew Cas’s eyes were on his own. ‘But I think we need to talk about it first.’

Dean groaned internally when he said it. He _hated_ stuff like that. He avoided it at all costs. Confrontation and discussing “feelings” was not something he did, and he hated that he was confused about this. He knew what he wanted. He knew what he was. He didn’t know if Cas knew, though, whether that knowing was about Cas or whether it was about Dean or what it was about though.

‘I agree,’ said Castiel, nodding. His eyes dropped from Dean’s lips to his own lap and he shifted backwards before looking back up and trying to focus on Dean’s eyes and not get distracted by the freckles on his cheeks which suddenly seemed a lot more interesting than usual. ‘I have questions. For you. About you. If you don’t mind.’

‘Go ahead,’ Dean offered, but at the same time feeling nervous about what those questions might be. ‘It’s not like I’ve got anything to hide. From you, at least.’

Castiel’s question was a pretty simple one.

‘Aren’t you straight?’

Panic flashed in Dean’s eyes briefly and he glanced at the door, then at Cas again. He lowered his voice although he knew nobody was listening and he couldn’t face looking Cas in the eyes. His heart started to pound. He’d never given the response to the question that he was about to give now.

‘No.’

Castiel looked hopeful.

‘You’re not?’

Dean shook his head. Castiel’s gaze intensified.

‘But I’ve never told anyone that before,’ Dean continued slowly, nervously. ‘If you don’t count guys I’ve … y’know … no one knows. No one I’ll ever see again … except Crowley, but he doesn’t count. I wasn’t me. I was a demon. That’s different.’

‘You’ve _been with_ men?’ Cas asked, completely stunned. That he didn’t expect. ‘How many?’

It was a stupid question, Cas knew it, but Dean shrugged, looking indifferent but Cas could still sense his unease.

‘A few. I guess. Over the years.’

‘When did you first …?’

‘Early twenties,’ Dean admitted rather sheepishly. ‘But I first kissed a guy when I was fifteen. At school. Behind a dumpster during lunch.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘I’m not. In fact, I freaked out so much the first time I actually kissed a _girl_ a year later that she assumed it was my first time kissing _anyone_.’

‘And you went along with it, didn’t you?’

‘Obviously. It’s not like I could just say “oh no, I made out with a guy last year but kissing girls is a whole new experience, thanks for asking” now could I?’

‘You could have,’ Cas reasoned, ‘but I guess not.’ He paused. ‘So you’re … what? Bi?’

‘Yeah,’ said Dean, nodding, feeling less nervous now. ‘Like Piper Chapman. Or Callie Torres.’ When he saw Cas’s eyebrows shoot up, he winced. ‘Shit. Spoilers. Sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Cas said offhandedly, then, ‘does Sam know?’

‘No,’ said Dean, shaking his head. ‘Not even him. Just you. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him or anyone else.’

‘But why?’

The genuine look of confusion in Cas’s questioning little frown made Dean feel very stupid about his own feelings and thoughts because somewhere, deep down, he knew they were as stupid as he felt.

‘I don’t want him to look at me differently,’ Dean said quietly. ‘I don’t want anyone to see me any different to how they already do.’

‘But they won’t,’ said Cas. ‘No one who knows you will, especially not Sam. Sam’s not even straight. He told me today.’

‘Yeah, I know he’s not,’ said Dean, nodding. ‘He told me he had a thing for Gabriel _years_ ago.’

‘He had a thing for _Gabriel_?’

‘He didn’t tell you that bit?’

‘No?’

‘Huh.’ For a moment, Dean smiled, a small laugh possibly escaping although Cas couldn’t be sure because it was silent. ‘I thought he would’ve.’

‘Well he didn’t,’ said Cas with an accompanying shake of his head, followed by an amused smile. ‘But it’s nice to hear that both Winchester brothers have things for angels. It really makes us look good.’

Dean actually did laugh this time.

‘Yeah, it does make you guys look good doesn’t it?’ But it seemed his laughter was short lived, because he quickly switched topics back, saying, ‘but still, please, don’t say anything. I’m not ready for that … even if he doesn’t see me any different.’

‘I would never tell anyone anything you told me in confidence,’ Castiel assured him, reaching out automatically for his hand. It was warm. ‘Not unless you ever wanted me to. I’m just happy you told _me._ ’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. It means a lot. And, if it makes you feel better, I’m not just a little gay, I’m completely gay, so you’re not alone in your non-heterosexuality.’

Dean’s laugh seemed more real this time and he looked down at their joined hands then back up at Cas, but under his lashes this time.

‘I like the way you put that,’ he commented. ‘Saying “a little gay” sounds a lot better than saying bi. That’s a whole other sexuality. But “a little gay” is just that. A little gay.’

‘Well there’s a reason you Winchesters have things for us angels. We have a way with words.’

Dean laughed even more.

‘So _that’s_ what it is.’ He sighed, feeling like a load had been taken off his chest. ‘Cas, buddy, you’re awesome.’

‘I know,’ Castiel replied smugly, a smirk and a raised eyebrow making a shiver go down Dean’s smile.

‘So can I act a little gay with you for a minute?’ Dean asked, almost teasingly now.

‘Act as gay as you please.’

Dean’s genuine smile made Castiel feel good. But not just good, like, _really_ good, and the smile was contagious and he couldn’t help smiling as Dean’s hand returned to his face but his face also returned to his face and Cas felt the softness of his lips and the scratchiness of his stubble and the strokes of his thumb. He felt the heat of Dean’s body as it moved closer to him, shifting into a more comfortable position, and Dean’s free hand somewhere on the bottom of his back. He felt Dean’s every movement as he placed his own hands on Dean’s waist incredibly gently.

He felt _Dean_. And Dean was better than watching a thousand sunsets on a hilltop with the scent of flowers and honey in the air.

Of course it wouldn’t fucking last. Dean’s tongue was just grazing, barely touching even, Cas’s bottom lip, when the shrill and obvious sound of Dean’s ringing phone sliced through the air, forcing them apart.

‘Is it Crowley?’ Castiel asked as Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket.

‘No, Jody,’ said Dean, frowning at his phone in confusion.

‘As in Mills?’

‘Yeah, her.’ Dean answered the call. ‘Jody?’ he greeted questioningly.

‘Dean,’ she replied. She sounded happy. ‘Hey. How are you? What’s happening? I haven’t heard from you guys in a while.’

‘We’re good,’ Dean answered, glancing at Cas. ‘ _Really_ good actually. Better than we’ve been in a while. What about you?’

‘Could be worse,’ Jody replied, which Dean took to mean that she was good too.

‘How’s looking after two teenage girls treating you?’ Dean asked, thinking of Alex and of course, of Claire. ‘Have they thrown any wild parties yet? Run off to Vegas to marry those boys you keep telling them they shouldn’t be around?’

‘Surprisingly, no,’ said Jody with a laugh, making Dean smile, and then Cas smile when Cas saw Dean smiling. ‘But I did want to run something by you and Sam, if that’s okay with you.’

‘Sam’s got his hand inside a dead bird right now, but I’ll be sure to run whatever it is by him,’ said Dean. ‘Cas is here, though. He says hey.’

Dean glanced at Cas, who nodded, Dean taking that to mean that he did in fact “say hey”.

‘Tell him I said right back atcha,’ Jody said rather perkily. ‘And that I hope I get to meet him soon. I’ve heard enough about him from you and Sam.’

‘She says hey and that she hopes to get to meet you soon,’ Dean passed the message along.

‘Tell her I feel the same way,’ said Cas.

‘Hey says ditto,’ Dean said into the phone. ‘So what’s up? Got a case for us?’

‘For once, no,’ Jody replied. ‘Actually it’s completely unrelated to anything like that. It’s about Christmas.’

‘As everything seems to be these past few days.’

‘I was just wondering if you guys ever do anything this time of year.’

‘Not usually,’ Dean admitted, ‘but this year, yeah. Sam’s gone Christmas-crazy. Why do you ask?’

‘Because I was thinking – _we_ were thinking – that maybe you guys wanted to do something. You could come here, we could come there, whatever works. Claire’s been asking about you guys since we talked to Donna last.’

‘You talked to Donna?’

‘Oh, yeah. We’re still pretty friendly. She’s less overwhelming once you get to know her, y’know?’

‘I know,’ said Dean. ‘So Claire’s been asking about us, huh? Didn’t expect that.’

Dean glanced at Cas, who’s eyes had widened now. Dean threw him a grin, which was returned.

‘Well there you have it. And I thought maybe it would be nice if all of us got together and did something that wasn’t related to chopping the heads off things. Donna would be coming too. There’s no better time for it.’

‘You have a point there,’ Dean agreed. ‘Yeah, sure. Let’s do it. Sam’s got this place decorated like the decorations section of a store so why don’t you guys come over whenever, stay a couple days, or not, or whatever suits you. Sam’ll be cool with it.’

‘Great!’ Jody seemed even perkier now. ‘I’ll call back when I talk to the girls about it. Maybe you’ll have talked to Sam by then.’

‘I’ll go talk to him right now,’ Dean promised.

‘Good. You do that. Talk later, yeah?’

‘Yeah. See you.’

‘Buh-bye.’

End of call. Dean put his phone down and turned back towards Cas, who looked eager.

‘What’s happening?’

‘It seems like we’ll be having guests for Christmas. Is that okay with you?’

‘Of course it is. I want to meet Jody. And Alex. And see Claire again.’

‘And Donna will be there too.’

‘Even better.’

Dean grinned.

‘Let’s go tell Sam about it.’

Dean jumped to his feet and Cas copied him as they headed towards the door. Cas felt Dean’s hand grabbed hold of his own, and for the first time he didn’t wonder why. He just looked up at Dean, feeling his heart fill with joy at the sight of the gleam in Dean’s eyes.

‘You look happy.’

‘I am happy,’ Dean answered simply. ‘I don’t know why, but I’m happy. And God, Cas, it’s been a while.’

‘I know it has,’ Cas sympathized, squeezing Dean’s hand. ‘But it’s good to see you happy. You and Sam both. It’s rare.’

‘And it’s Christmas,’ said Dean, as if that cleared things up even more.

For some reason, even though Cas was new to the whole Christmas thing and he knew that Dean usually didn’t give it a second thought, it _did_ clear things up.

Sam was all for the notion of having guests.

‘All the more people to feed,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Because it turns out I actually don’t suck at cooking this stuff. And we’re having turkey tonight.’

‘The same turkey that’s had your fist up it’s ass?’

‘I was stuffing it, Dean.’

‘So that’s what you’re calling it these days?’

Sam ignored him.

‘So, does this mean we’ll have to go out and buy more presents or what?’

Dean hadn’t thought of that, but the thought of having to buy presents for people suddenly didn’t seem so bad. It meant that they actually had friends.

‘Cas and I can go,’ he said offhandedly. ‘We’ll head back to Kansas City. There’s some decent places there. We just left so we don’t mind heading back, right Cas?’

‘Right,’ Cas agreed.

‘Okay, good,’ said Sam, nodding, ‘just wait until this turkey is ready before you guys go so you can take some with you? I have five others that I don’t need because I thought I’d end up messing up most of them. It’s _not funny_ ,’ he added, glaring at Dean who had started laughing at him.

‘Yes it is.’

‘No it’s not.’

‘Whatever you say, Sammy. Tell me when it’s finished so Cas and me can get going, would you?’

‘Yeah, I’ll let you know.’

Dean nodded his thanks and left, Cas following him.

‘We’re going _back_?’ Cas asked, looking at Dean in a state similar to disbelief. ‘We just _left_.’

‘I know,’ Dean agreed. ‘Believe me, I don’t like going all that way just to shop either, but it gives us something to do, doesn’t it?’

Cas shrugged.

‘I guess. The drive gives me more time to read.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ said Dean with a chuckle. ‘But until then …’

They stopped walking and Dean looked around quickly before kissing Cas for a number of seconds that was far too short for Cas’s liking. He was only just starting to get to kiss someone he actually liked, and Dean was cutting those kisses short?

‘We could go be a little gay?’ Cas suggested, quietly, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

‘While watching Grey’s?’

‘Of course. All of this travelling is seriously cutting into my catch up time and I want to see if the John Winchester lookalike is going to get his heart or not.’

Dean laughed and they started walking again in the direction of Cas’s room, by now an old routine thanks to the events of the past few days. It was almost like clockwork, how their feet found their way to Cas’s room and they hadn’t even paid attention to how they’d got there, then the TV was on so fast it was like it had switched itself on, and then they were in their usual positions and watching Izzie trying to keep Denny alive. They joined the episode when it was already twenty minutes, because that was where Cas had stopped watching last.

The show gripped them so fast that they didn’t end up doing anything gay at all. Although that was to be expected. Dean had heard about this whole “Netflix and Chill” thing and had deemed it completely ridiculous, because why would anyone bother putting on a show without watching it? Especially when _McDreamy_ was on screen. McDreamy was so much more McDreamy than Doctor Sexy from Doctor Sexy M.D. had been sexy.

Sam came in a little after the next episode had started to tell them they could leave.

‘What happened to the turkey?’ Cas asked.

‘It exploded,’ said Sam.

Castiel raised his eyebrows. Dean blinked at Sam questioningly.

‘It exploded,’ he repeated.

‘Yeah,’ Sam nodded.

‘How did you manage to explode a dead bird?’

‘I tried to deep-fry it.’

Dean closed his eyes to get over how awkward looking Sam seemed to get when he made the ridiculous statement. He took a deep breath before he opened his eyes again.

‘Just use the fucking oven next time, yeah?’

‘Yeah, noted,’ Sam said with a roll of his eyes. ‘So you guys can leave now. And get decent presents, or at least _try_ , will you?’

‘Don’t under estimate my gift giving abilities,’ Dean scoffed, acting as if it were something incredibly offensive.

‘So basically candles and cop movies for Jody and Donna and you’re asking Jody what to get for Alex and Claire?’

‘Yeah, sounds about right. Cas?’

‘Socks would be good too,’ Cas chimed in. ‘Isn’t it a big thing with humans to give socks to people this time of year?’

‘Socks, movie, candle. That’s three gifts. You’re a genius.’

‘Pick decent movies,’ Sam warned them. ‘And I’m saying the movies are from me since they’re the least crappy. And don’t forget _cards._ ’

‘I’m not stupid, Sam.’

Sam raised his eyebrows, turning towards Cas.

‘I’ll remind him,’ Cas promised.

‘Thank God I’ve got you to rely on,’ Sam sighed, being over dramatic with his false relief. ‘Literally. Thank _God_.’

Dean rolled his eyes, folding his arms and staring at Sam with an exasperated look. Cas, on the other hand, laughed. At the sound of Castiel’s laughter, Dean turned towards him with his eyebrows raised. Cas frowned at him.

‘What? It was funny.’

Another look at both of them and Dean shook his head.

‘You two are _morons_ ,’ he decided, sweeping past Sam in the doorway and out of the room, talking as he went. ‘I’m getting my stuff. Cas, meet me by the car when you’re done laughing at dumb jokes.’

Sam and Cas exchanged a look before Sam looked out the door to watch Dean walking away in what looked like the beginnings of a huff. He turned back to Cas.

‘I guess Dean really doesn’t like it when anyone laughs at jokes that aren’t his.’

‘Possibly because people rarely laugh at his,’ Cas agreed. He turned to his closet and pulled out his Supernatural backpack to throw some things into. ‘But despite his usually bad jokes, his comebacks are always something to laugh at since they’re so terrible most of the time.’

‘And his reactions to things,’ Sam added. ‘He’s got some pretty funny facial expressions when he reacts to things.’

‘Sometimes I feel as though I’d like to take pictures of him reacting to things so I can show them to people when they say something that makes me feel the way his face looks in those situations. It would reduce my need to talk to people by a great degree.’

Sam laughed loudly at the way Cas had said it, then again at imaging him actually doing it. It did seem like something Cas would do if he could. Castiel frowned at him and he tried to let his laughter die down.

‘I know you’re serious,’ Sam replied as the last of his laughter tapered off, ‘I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I’m laughing because I know you’re serious and because I agree.’

Dean suddenly reappeared behind Sam, walking as quietly as he could so Sam wouldn’t notice. As he passed the doorway Sam was still standing in, he made a face behind Sam’s back that made Cas feel the urge to laugh, but he repressed it as he zipped up his backpack.

‘I should go meet Dean,’ he acknowledged now that he was ready to leave and he knew that Dean was.

‘Good luck,’ Sam chortled.

‘Why do I need luck?’

‘I know what it’s like being stuck in a car with him.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ Cas said indifferently. ‘On the way to Kansas City yesterday he told me about Ozzy Osbourne’s entire life. That was fun.’

‘Not when you’ve heard random stories from it at least a thousand times every time he’s reminded of one of them,’ Sam warned.

‘I’ll try not to remind him of one then,’ Cas promised.

‘Still. You’ve been subjected to a lot of Dean this week. How’re you holding up?’ Sam joked, raising his eyebrows playfully.

‘I’m fine for now. I’ll let you know if Dean starts corrupting me.’

‘Good. Just make sure it’s not too late.’

They exchanged a few more jokes as Sam walked with Cas for a while and parted when Sam said he’d better try his luck with another turkey and Cas should get going out to Dean.

‘What are you going to do while we’re gone?’ Cas asked curiously before they parted. ‘Besides practicing not exploding turkeys.’

‘I’ve got some stuff to do,’ Sam said, shrugging, as if he were indifferent. Cas saw that he appeared to not want to disclose what that “stuff” was, but decided not to pry.

‘Good luck with your stuff.’

‘Good luck with Dean.’

When Cas got out to the car, Dean was leaning against it with a bored look, but when he saw Cas approaching, he raised his eyebrows and flashed a grin.

‘Done laughing at crappy jokes?’

‘For now,’ Castiel commented as the two of them got into the car. As he tossed his bag into the back seat, he added, ‘until I have to force myself to laugh at any jokes _you_ may make.’

‘Fuck you, I’m hilarious,’ Dean said self-indulgently, with a bold smile that was purely to himself.

‘Sometimes,’ Cas agreed, ‘but other times your jokes are stupid enough to be ironically funny. And then there are the times they’re just stupid.’

‘You’re just stupid,’ Dean muttered under his breath as he started the car, and looked shocked when he discovered that it was actually an insult. ‘That worked out well.’

‘I think that may be the first time I’ve heard one of your comebacks work out in your favor,’ Cas remarked. ‘Good job.’

‘Thank you,’ Dean smirked, looking proud of himself.

They pulled out of their parking spot and Dean switched on the radio. Once Cas had deemed it safe to say that there wouldn’t be any flowing conversation just now, he reached into the back to pull out his book which he opened up and prepared to continue reading. He glanced at Dean before he did and couldn’t help but allow himself a small smile. He’d _kissed_ Dean today. Pretty, pretty Dean. And he was the only one Dean trusted enough to share a part of himself that he hadn’t yet shared with anyone else. Cas was feeling a strong urge to kiss Dean right now, but since he couldn’t he was feeling an urge to at least touch him in some way, but that wasn’t a new thing. Besides, he didn’t have an excuse to and didn’t know if it was appropriate, even now, to randomly touch Dean.

He could still look, though. He could glance at Dean after every sentence he read and he could think about the fact that he had kissed Dean and he could think of it over and over and over again.

Castiel read through pretty much the whole car journey apart from when Jody called to tell Dean that they’d be there for Christmas and that she’d already called Sam and they’d be arriving on the twenty third until the twenty sixth. Dean had been mildly shocked by that, but definitely didn’t protest. He’d never had anyone to properly celebrate Christmas with and the fact that this year he would excited him in ways he definitely would never show.

‘Oh, and Dean?’ Jody remembered, just before the end of the call. ‘Sam mentioned you guys didn’t know what to get Claire and Alex. And really, you don’t have to go to any trouble.’

‘Of course we do,’ Dean protested. ‘It’s Christmas and we’re already halfway to a place with decent shops anyway. So tell me. What do they like?’

‘Music,’ Jody replied without missing a beat. ‘Specifically the heavy stuff, bands that started out _decades_ ago, they’re _obsessed_ with this group called Black Sabbath right now – have you heard of them?’

‘I was raised on them. Continue.’

‘Yeah, Alex heard about them calling it a day and her obsession just shot through the roof and she dragged Claire up there with her. So basically anything with the words “Black Sabbath” written on it should do the trick.’

Dean nodded, already forming an idea.

‘Thanks, Jody. That’s great. So see you on the twenty third?’

‘We’ll be there.’

The call ended there and Castiel looked at Dean questioningly.

‘Well?’

‘Black Sabbath,’ Dean replied. ‘Of all things. They’ve got good taste.’

‘So what are we getting them?’

‘Merchandise, dear Cas, merchandise. I’m sure there’s some in that charming little shop we seem to keep having the need to visit.’

‘Hot Topic? _Again_?’

‘You’d think they’d get the hint and open up one that isn’t four fucking hours away, wouldn’t they?’

Cas laughed, rolling his eyes at Dean’s expression. Knowing Dean didn’t expect a response and that it was partly a joke and partly a rhetorical question, Cas went back to his book, a small thought in the back of his head telling him “good job” for not thinking Dean’s question was literal.

When they pulled up outside the motel it was already dark outside. Cas closed his book and went to exit the car, but he felt Dean’s hand on his arm stopping him. He turned to Dean to see what he wanted.

‘Is it cool if I get two double rooms?’

Castiel frowned.

‘As in two separate rooms with double beds?’

‘Yeah. So it’d be like a room each.’

Cas felt a sinking feeling inside him. Dean didn’t want to share a room?

‘But why?’

Seeing Cas’s expression, Dean was quick to clarify.

‘We’d only use one of them. The other is just so whoever’s checking us in doesn’t think that … y’know.’

The sinking became soaring. They weren’t just sharing a room. They were sharing a _bed_.

‘Please,’ Cas urged. ‘Go ahead. Get two rooms.’

Dean nodded, gestured for Cas to continue getting out of the car, and got out himself. He got both of their bags out of the back and handed Cas’s over and slung his over his shoulder. As they headed inside, Cas stowed his book in his bag and slung his over his shoulder too.

‘Back already?’ the oddly chipper woman on the front desk asked when she caught sight of the pair she remembered from that morning.

‘Seems like we just can’t get enough,’ Dean replied with that charming smile he always seemed to use on friendly women.

‘Would you two like the same room? It’s still vacant.’

‘Actually could we get two double rooms, please?’ Dean asked. He jerked his thumb at Cas, looking almost pained. ‘It’s my friend. He snores. No one can sleep in the same room as him.’

‘I do _not_ ,’ Cas protested grumpily. He understood it was just an excuse, but he didn’t appreciate being the butt of a snore-related joke that this chirpy lady was now laughing at. ‘ _He_ snores.’

This made the lady laugh even more and she was quick to check them in and give them their keys. They headed off towards one of the rooms together; it didn’t seem suspicious that they were both headed in the same direction since it turned out the rooms they’d been given were next to each other. They went into the one that was the closest and put their bags down on the bed.

‘So, food and drinks and Netflix or should we actually go out somewhere?’ Dean asked as Cas sat on the end of the bed and looked around the room.

‘The first one, definitely,’ Cas replied. Dean nodded.

‘Okay. I’ll hit the net and see if Wendy’s deliver.’

It turns out that they did deliver, but only to the lobbies of buildings. Dean made sure to leave his number when he ordered so the delivery person could let him know when they were there. He made the order over the phone while Cas set up Netflix and put the laptop on the end of the bed, next to where Dean was now sitting. Once Dean was done with the ordering, he stood up and moved to the top of the bed instead, letting Cas hit play and take his place beside him. Leaning back against the pillows, he began to feel extremely relaxed.

They watched in silence until the food arrived half an hour later. Dean got up and Cas paused the show.

‘Would it be completely ridiculous to change and get into this bed right now even though it’s incredibly early?’ Cas asked when Dean was at the door.

‘Probably not. Why?’

‘Because this bed is exceedingly comfortable.’

Dean laughed.

‘Yeah, go ahead. Be right back.’

Dean left and Cas changed and climbed into the bed. He quite liked the whole concept of laying in beds covered by thick duvets and sitting and laying in different positons. It was a soothing thing and it made him feel closer to the human side of himself. Plus, it was warm and comfortable and though he never got particularly cold or uncomfortable, not unless he was trapped in a freezer or something, it was an added bonus.

Dean was “right” back and put the arm fulls of food beside Cas. They had, of course, gotten a wide selection of things which he knew would all end up being eaten by the bottomless pit of angel sitting in bed with his arms folded across his chest. Dean didn’t particularly like using the kind of language his mind was suddenly thinking in right now, but his mind wouldn’t stop screaming at him that Cas looked, well, like an angel. But the kind you’d put “cute little” before before saying it.

Dean suddenly made a decision that in the moment did seem just that, sudden, but it’s not like he hadn’t been planning on actually sharing this bed with Castiel. That was kind of the whole point of the double bed in the first place. He just hadn’t planned on sharing it with him this _early_.

Cas was reaching for one of the bags of food when Dean started taking his pants off and his hand froze, hovering above the bag as if stunned into stillness. Dean wasn’t pantless for long as he pulled the sweats he usually wore when lounging around the bunker on single days off where he didn’t get fully dressed out of his bag and threw them on. Next, he was briefly shirtless and Cas was overwhelmed by the freckles on Dean’s shoulders that he could see from the back as Dean dug around in his bag for the worn old AC/DC shirt he’d been sleeping in lately. Cas only realized as Dean turned around after putting it on that it was the same shirt that Dean had leant him when he was recovering from Rowena’s spell.

Cas was almost a little nervous when Dean peeled back the covers and climbed into the bed. They’d shared a blanket before, but that was a flimsy little blanket just over their laps. This was a bed and a duvet that Cas, so far, had pulled up to around his belly button.

Dean was admittedly nervous too as he reached forward and pulled the laptop closer so he could hit play and Grey’s could continue as he reached into one of the bags of food and pulled out a burger, acting completely natural. Cas followed his lead.

They were disappointed half way through their meal to discover there was no minibar in the motel room, but neither one of them particularly felt like going out to buy alcohol and it wasn’t as if they needed it anyway. The drinks (including Cas’s coffee of course) Dean had ordered with the meal were enough to keep their mouths from going dry. And there was always water. They hadn’t exactly been planning on getting drunk to enjoy the evening anyway and hadn’t needed to up until now.

It seemed like they could have easily finished all of the food Dean had ordered for them, but deciding to leave some for later was a good idea too, although suddenly it didn’t seem so early. The day had gone faster than they knew and it was ten at night now. Although, four hours back to the bunker, two or three hours there, four hours back …

When the episode they’d decided to stop eating during ended, Dean waited for the next one to start before pausing it before it could play more than a second. He rubbed his eyes which felt a little weird after staring at the screen for so long and glanced at Cas.

‘Break?’ he asked.

‘Break,’ Cas agreed.

Dean closed the laptop and moved it onto the floor next to the bed. Then he stretched his back, sitting up straight and stretching his arms above his head, before leaning back and turning his head towards Cas, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.

‘What’s on your mind?’ Dean asked lightly.

‘Nothing,’ Cas replied, then paused, wondering if he should proceed. He proceeded. ‘I was just thinking about the fact that you’re … very pretty.’

Dean raised his eyebrows.

‘ _Pretty_?’

‘Or handsome, if you’d prefer,’ Cas added. ‘But the word I would use to describe you is pretty.’

‘As in “pretty boy”?’

‘Perhaps. But not in the “stuck up pretty boy” kind of way. Just in the descriptive kind of way. You are pretty.’

Dean chuckled.

‘Well, thanks, Cas.’

Dean reached out a hand towards Castiel’s face. It felt weird that he was nervous now but hadn’t been earlier. Probably had something to do with the fact that they were literally in bed together. His fingers rested lightly under Cas’s jaw, his hand spanning across one side of his face, his thumb stroking somewhere around his cheekbone. He’d cupped Cas’s face before. But he’d never stroked it. Nor had Cas ever leaned into his hand as if he craved the touch.

‘Has anyone ever touched you like this before?’ Dean asked quietly, staring into Cas’s eyes which were boring holes into his own. ‘Anyone you liked.’

‘No,’ Cas mumbled. ‘Never.’ He looked at Dean, reaching out with his own hand hesitantly. ‘Can I?’

‘Go ahead,’ Dean urged. ‘You don’t need to ask. Just … do whatever.’

Tracing over the freckles on Dean’s cheeks with one finger was far better than just looking at them from a distance. He had always wondered if he’d be able to count all of them, but seeing them this close he knew it was impossible. His finger traced down Dean’s freckled nose. The skin was soft, but the structure was solid at the same time. Cas had never thought about touching Dean’s nose before, but here he was.

He was very timid when it came to touching Dean’s lips, despite having already touched them with his own. He withdrew his hand and asked something that had been on his mind since Dean had climbed into bed next to him.

‘Is this weird for you?’

‘Yeah,’ Dean murmured. ‘Pretty damn weird, actually.’

‘Do you want to stop?’

‘Fuck, no.’

Castiel smiled and Dean felt the muscles of Cas’s face moving in his hand. Cas’s fingers reached out to tip Dean’s bottom lip. Yes, Castiel had carried Dean’s broken soul out of hell, but yes, it still felt weird to have his fingers on his face, tracing the shape of the slightly parted, plump, pink lips. Dean’s lips seemed to be dry and his tongue automatically darted out to wet them. He was incredibly conscious of how slowly the tips of Cas’s fingers were grazing the edges, one ghosting finger coming to rest over his cupid’s bow.

Cas dropped his finger at the sight of the moisture on the lips now, removed Dean’s hand from his face and put both of his own hands on Dean’s face as he kissed him. The kissing part felt the least weird, not because they’d already done it, but because it just seemed easier than getting to know the feel of various parts of Dean’s face.

‘So pretty,’ Cas mumbled against Dean. ‘So pretty.’

This act didn’t come as naturally to Cas as he’d hoped it would. He was always waiting for Dean do to something different, then hoping he himself was doing it right when he followed Dean’s lead. He dropped his hands from Dean’s face and moved them to Dean’s sides when he felt that’s where Dean’s hands were on him and when he felt Dean’s tongue against his lips, instead of being interrupted by a phone call this time, Cas parted his lips and felt Dean’s tongue slide in. He moved his own to meet it, at little clumsily at first, briefly wondering what the point of two people waggling their tongues around in each others’ mouths was, but when he felt how Dean’s tongue began to dip in and out, a flick here, a taste there, a slow graze along Cas’s own, he got the gist pretty quickly and tried to copy Dean’s movements.

Castiel felt a familiar stirring he’d felt many times before but usually ignored so it just went away. But now he was very aware of it and unable to ignore it and honestly, quite self-conscious about it. Was Dean supposed to become aware of Castiel’s arousal? Did Cas _want_ him to? Was Dean also aroused?

Cas suddenly became aware that Dean’s hand was making direct contact with his skin, meaning Dean’s hand had travelled up his shirt. Cas’s muscles tensed up momentarily but he relaxed as Dean stroked his skin gently, up and down, up and down, right down to the hip bones where his hands lingered longer.

‘Cas,’ Dean said huskily between long, deep kisses. ‘Can I take this off?’

Castiel nodded, almost shyly. Dean went slow, taking hold of the bottom edges and pulling upwards. Cas raised his arms above his head while Dean lifted the shirt off. As Cas slowly lowered his arms, Dean pulled off his own shirt and tossed it behind him. Castiel freely let his eyes look over Dean, drinking in the freckled shoulders, the freckles growing lighter until they became non-existent the lower down Cas let his eyes drift. He reached out his hand and stroked down from Dean’s collarbone right to the waistband of his sweatpants. Feeling. Experiencing. Barely believing.

Dean moved forward, a little less slowly but more slowly than he usually would have with anyone else. He wanted Cas to feel safe, to feel _appreciated,_ because this was, what Dean was considering to be, his first _real_ time doing anything of this nature. He wanted to take this slow, make Cas feel new things, and let him savor this. Dean would be savoring it. In Dean’s mind, they’d be going so slowly with this that they wouldn’t even be going all the way tonight. He wanted to discuss that first. He’d never wanted to, never needed to discuss it with anyone before, but he _cared_ about Cas.

Dean pressed his lips against Cas’s neck, moving while he did so, so that instead of being side by side, Cas was beneath him. He straddled Cas while continuing the trail of feather light kisses down his neck. Once he got to the dip in his collarbone, he dragged his tongue across it briefly before looking up at Cas. Cas’s eyes were closed, his head back, but his eyes slowly opened as Dean continued his trail down his chest, looking up at Cas all the while. Sometimes Dean would stop in one area and lightly suck or lick at the skin before pressing his lips to it. Dean couldn’t tell how it felt for Cas, but he could tell by the long, even breaths that were held for a moment before Cas left them out, that Cas was relaxed, which Dean took as a good sign.

Dean paid extra attention to the angel warding tattooed on Cas’s stomach, making sure his lips hit where every single needle must have pierced. Then, when he got low enough, he planted a kiss upon each prominent hip bone.

Castiel knew exactly what was coming next and Dean knew he knew it. Cas’s stomach muscles visibly tightened and he held his breath longer than usual. Dean didn’t even have to ask.

‘Please,’ Cas pleaded. ‘Continue.’

Dean hooked a finger under the waistband of both pajama pants and underwear at the same time and tugged. Cas raised his hips, allowing the clothing to slide down easily. Dean left the clothes at mid-thigh and then dipped his head between Cas’s legs to kiss the insides of his thighs.

 _Blue eyes and thick thighs,_ Dean thought to himself, followed by lyrics from a song he’d accidentally found on YouTube, _thick thighs make a dick rise._

Dean’s own dick wasn’t his concern right now. It was hard, but not painfully so, as Dean wasn’t paying it any attention. His attention was all on Cas’s, curled back against his stomach, cut where Dean was uncut, his pubic hair completely untouched where Dean kept his own trimmed, and bigger, Dean was fairly sure, than Dean was. Dean had never thought about what Cas’s actual dick would look like the many times he’d thought about him in sexual scenarios.  

Dean took hold of Cas’s dick and brought it to his lips. He licked the already wet tip and Cas made a noise Dean was certain had been involuntary. Dean smirked, repeated his action, and was rewarded with a low cross between a moan and a groan. Dean looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes, and winked at him. Cas’s cock twitched in Dean’s hand, seeming to shock Cas himself.

No more teasing. Dean popped the head into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks, sucking long and slow, as he worked his way down as far as he could go and slowly, agonizingly slowly, back up, coming off with a pop and licking his lips. He checked to see what state Cas was in and saw Cas’s eyes were shut tight, his head thrown back and his mouth partly open. Dean put his mouth around his dick again and continued, giving Cas all of his best work, increasing in speed every time he went down and then back up again.

They had no lube, and Dean had learned the hard way not to use spit as lube, but it was the only moist thing they had that allowed Dean to use one hand to twist and tug at the base when Dean’s mouth was on the head, while the other hand found and massaged Cas’s balls.

Cas was relatively quiet throughout. Here and there a noise escaped him that was beyond his control and the sheets twisted in his fingers, but he tried to keep his breathing steady. It worked … while Dean was still going slowly. As Dean sped up Cas’s breathing quickened, starting to come more unevenly. Dean could tell when Cas was about to climax and he was ready for it, swallowing everything that he could. He had learned years ago not to spit. Always swallow.

Dean climbed off of Cas and collapsed back against the pillows beside the silent angel who’s eyes were still screwed shut. Dean wiped some come from his chin that he’d missed and sucked it from his thumb as Cas finally recovered enough to speak.

‘ _Dean_ ,’ was all he managed to get out, a gravely, pleasure filled sound that went straight to Dean’s already hard dick that he’d begun to palm through his clothing.

‘Good?’ Dean presumed, while Cas struggled to recover enough to pull his pants up.

‘I cannot find the words to describe what I’m feeling at this moment in time.’

Dean nodded, making a vague ‘mhm’ sound. He’d taken care of his angel. And now it was time to take care of himself. He took his own cock out, spreading the pre-come around the trip, before he started stroking in long, even beats. He met Cas’s eyes as he did, and barely registered Cas’s hand moving to hover near his own.

Dean left go of himself and let Cas take over. Cas seemed to get the idea pretty quick, using the drops forming on the head to make has hand slicker so it glided more easily up and down, increasing speed with every beat. Dean, unlike Cas, was far from silent and was unafraid to let Cas hear his groans as he started bucking his hips and fucking into the angel’s fast pumping hand.

Dean came sooner than he usually would have, all because of Cas. He was so used to jerking off with mere thoughts of the angel, and now he was spurting all over his own chest and Cas’s hand, because his ultimate fantasy of the past who-knew-how-long was happening right now, live.

Cas lay on his side watching while Dean’s breathing evened out enough to tuck himself back into his pants and hold up a finger to Cas, signaling he’d be right back. Dean headed off into the bathroom without bothering to close the door and started to clean off his chest. Cas glanced at his come-spotted hand and decided instead of going to wash it off, perhaps he would lick it. Dean had swallowed a lot more than this.

Cas was back to tasting in molecules now, but they tasted the same as the molecules of salt, plus something new he’d never tasted before that he couldn’t compare to any other molecules. He rolled over onto his stomach and grabbed a pillow, wrapping his arms around it, hugging it and resting his head on it at the same time, as Dean came back.

_He had just been given a blow job by Dean Winchester._

The thought made him giddy. It had felt so much better than he expected. His mind registered the fact that this further confirmed his sexuality. Sexual encounters with females? Meh. Sexual encounters with males?

‘ _Fuck_.’

Dean glanced Cas who was still looking a little overwhelmed. He grinned as Cas turned his head to face him.

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked.

‘I never thought …’ Castiel started, barely able to put his thoughts into words, ‘or I could never imagine how …’

‘Better than you thought it would be?’

‘Yes,’ Cas said quickly. Much better. You’re amazing, Dean.’

‘You just think that because you’ve got nothing to compare it to,’ Dean muttered, brushing him off. ‘Well, next to nothing.’

‘No,’ Cas corrected him, sitting up. He decided to make a bold move and position himself in Dean’s lap, the way Dean had with him earlier. ‘ _You_ are amazing. And beautiful. And glorious. And I _love_ you.’

Nothing pleased Dean more to hear Cas saying those things.

‘I used to think about you, you know,’ Dean said in a voice that was almost like a purr, a single finger trailing up and down Cas’s chest. ‘When I flew solo if you know what I mean.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Cas confirmed, allowing a smug little smile to take shape on his lips. ‘And I know. I could hear you.’

Dean blinked a few times.

‘You could _what_?’

‘Angels can sense longing. And you were longing,’ Cas replied, shrugging, his smugness turning to sweetness that he knew would drive Dean crazy. ‘I never understood why. I still always assumed you were straight. I assumed you never saw me as more than a friend. But I assumed you liked the thought of me, an angel of the lord, the vision of innocence, doing such acts. Or any angel really.’

‘You? Innocent?’ Dean scoffed. ‘You’ve killed as many people as I have and looked bad-ass doing it. More people, actually. I don’t think that exactly equals innocent. None of you guys are. You’re worse than humans.’

‘Sexually innocent, then,’ Cas clarified. ‘I’ve visited your dreams before, remember? More often than you know. And on more than one occasion I’ve seen you dreaming of attractive women dressed as angels. I thought the idea of angels was something you liked.’

‘No, the hot chicks in those dreams is what I liked about them,’ Dean remarked. ‘Believe me, whenever I thought about _you_ that’s exactly what I liked about those thoughts. You. And me. Together. Even if I didn’t want to believe it.’

‘Why wouldn’t you want to believe it?’ Cas asked quietly, tilting his head to the side and starting to stroke down Dean’s torso.

‘Hadn’t done any guys in a few years,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I thought I grew out of it if you don’t count that one time with those twins, a hot chick and her brother … but I thought I was going to hell then. I _did_ go to hell. And then you showed up, all … hot and powerful and I didn’t want to think about the possibility that I wasn’t completely straight anymore. And then we became friends and I didn’t want to mess than up … it took years to admit to myself that you couldn’t be just my friend. That whatever it was that I felt for you had to be on the spectrum of the big l-word.’

‘But you accept it now, don’t you?’ Cas asked seriously.

‘I have, in fact, accepted that I’m bi as fuck, even if I’m still closeted as fuck and don’t like the word very much,’ Dean said assuringly, smiling up at Cas. ‘And I know I’m definitely never getting out of the deep end of the Cas-pool I’ve been drowning in for years. That I can promise you.’

Cas laughed. Dean, who had his hands resting on Cas’s sides now, could feel the laughter coming from deep inside him.

‘Can I tell you something?’ Cas asked suddenly, while still coming off the end of his laughter.

‘Go ahead.’

‘When we were fighting recently I used to try and do things that I thought would arouse you if you thought about an angel doing them,’ Cas admitted. ‘When I thought you just had a thing for … dirty angels.’

‘You did?’ Dean asked, snickering slightly at the words “dirty angels.”

‘Yes,’ Cas confirmed. ‘Putting incredibly large amounts of food in my mouth without choking. Acting obnoxiously sweet at certain moments. The swearing thing.’

Dean could recall. He shook his head, laughing.

‘I can assure you it worked even if my thing was just for _one_ angel who seems to be dirtier than I thought.’ Dean paused suddenly, catching sight of something he hadn’t yet noticed. ‘Did you know you have a mole near your nipple?’

Cas frowned at him, then looked down at his own chest. Dean pointed it out, leaving his finger next to it. Cas raised his eyebrows.

‘I’ve never really paid attention to that before.’

‘It’s cute,’ Dean commented, running his finger around it in a circle. Cas’s skin was so damn soft.

Cas smiled goofily, looking down at Dean feeling the adoration he felt present in his eyes.

‘Do you know what I think is cute?’ he asked.

‘Guinea pigs?’ Dean presumed.

‘No.’ Cas shook his head. ‘ _This_.’

Cas walked his fingers across Dean’s stomach and looked back at Dean’s face. He was surprised to see Dean was blushing.

‘I’ve been meaning to work out more,’ Dean mumbled, unable to look Cas in the eyes.

‘But … why?’

‘Because it wasn’t always like that,’ Dean muttered.

‘So what?’ Cas asked. ‘Sure. It’s a little pudgier than I expected. But you’re a thirty six – almost thirty seven – year old man who eats what he likes and eats well. It’s not shocking that you’re a little squishy. You’re still extremely attractive and you get approached by a lot of women, don’t you?’

‘That’s true,’ Dean admitted, looking back at Cas now. The blush was still there. ‘I’m hot as fuck.’

‘Yes, you are _hot as fuck_. And your unexpected pudge is _cute as fuck_.’

‘Unexpected, huh?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows and starting to smile small. ‘What were you expecting? Rock hard abs? Eight back? Body-builder type thing?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Cas replied. ‘I don’t know what I was expecting. I’m just glad what I got is something so _cute_.’

‘And I’m glad I got a nipple mole and the world’s pointiest hip bones,’ Dean replied with a lazy grin, his thumbs rubbing circles on said hip bones.

‘So what does this mean?’ Cas asked, taking on a more serious tone.

‘What does what mean?’

‘This,’ Cas stated. ‘Some nights ago we confessed our love. We just performed sexual acts on each other. We’re currently touching each other intimately. Clearly we are no longer friends. So what are we?’

‘Friends with benefits?’ Dean suggested, arching an eyebrow. ‘Or …’ Here, he hesitated, it not being a word he was fond of. ‘Boyfriends?’

‘Boyfriends?’ Castiel repeated tenderly, getting used to the word on his tongue. ‘Real ones? Like Piper and Alex are girlfriends, boyfriends?’

‘If you want, yeah,’ Dean nodded.

‘I do,’ Cas said enthusiastically. ‘I do. But secret boyfriends? Right? Until you’re ready to tell people that you’re … a little gay?’

Dean laughed lazily.

‘Yeah. Secret boyfriends until then.’

Cas could tell Dean was getting sleepy. He climbed off of him, laying beside him instead, facing into him. Dean put his arm around Cas, pulling him tight to his side.

‘I’ve never had a boyfriend before,’ Cas stated the obvious.

‘Neither have I,’ said Dean.

‘What about Crowley?’ Cas asked. ‘When you were a demon? I assume you two were … intimate.’

‘There were some encounters,’ Dean admitted. ‘Nothing with just the two of us. There was this thing with these triplets. All guys,’ he clarified, ‘and sometimes we’d be fucking people in the same room. Even swap partners after. But believe me, thinking about that now makes me want to throw up.’

‘I’ll stop talking about it now,’ Cas promised. His hand found Dean’s stomach again and rested there. ‘So does this mean I can … touch you? Whenever and however I want? When we’re alone, of course.’

‘Please do,’ Dean encouraged. ‘Even when we’re not alone if you can make it seem casual.’

‘Hand brushes when passing you things?’ Cas suggested. ‘More high fives? Maybe you could … do that shoulder slap thing more often?’

‘Mhm …’

‘Dean?’

‘… Yeah?’

‘I’m turning the lights off and turning on Netflix now. Is that okay?’

‘Yeah …’

Castiel moved slowly when he got out of bed. He switched the lights off and walked quietly around to Dean’s side of the bed and took his laptop off the floor, opening it as he did. He placed it on his own side of the bed and then located his Supernatural earbuds in his bag.

Cas slid into bed between Dean and the laptop and pulled the covers up over them to protect Dean from the harsh December cold that was likely to seep in during the night. Dean’s arm was still out from where it had been around Cas, allowing Cas to nestle into Dean’s side as he tried his best to angle the laptop away from the two of them so the light wouldn’t disturb Dean.

Cas’s last thought before losing himself for the night was a simple one.

_You and Dean are together now._


	14. Dawn Lover of God

Sam valued all the alone time he was getting.

Since reading The First Book, something in him had clicked. Something had sent him in a frenzy where he wanted, no, _needed_ to act like everything was completely normal. His days reading the book had been educational. He didn’t understand most of the book, but he did understand one thing: he was in it. Graphically. 

_Tell me you’ve improved, Moose. Please._

Sam shuddered when he thought about the fact that Crowley and probably many others, including his own brother had read about his clumsy, awkward sexual encounters as a teenager. The only good thing about it was that Dean didn’t know Sam was in the book.

The question was, how did Crowley?

Sam had tried to contact Crowley since reading the book, but he’d never picked up. The fact that they were both “victims” was unsettling. The fact that the word “victims” was used was unsettling. He didn’t _feel_ like a victim of something should feel. He just felt … lucky. Lucky to have been able to know The Savior, to be with her, and mostly, lucky to be able to find her again.

It had taken hours. Dean and Castiel had been out working some stupid case that was nowhere near as important as Sam’s research. Then, finally, he had struck gold in what was honestly the first place he should have looked.

Facebook user Aroura Amator.

It was _her_. He was sure of it. Her picture looked like _her_. When he messaged her, her reply sounded like _her_. When he spoke to her on the phone, it sounded like _her._

When he opened the door on the twenty first of December, while Dean and Castiel were safely four hours away shopping for presents, it was _her._

She wasn’t any taller. Her face barely looked a day older. But her hair was longer, darker, and she had bangs now. Her eyes were still the same light blue and they were still the bluest light blue Sam had ever seen and she was, if possible, even more beautiful.

Parts of the sides of her hair were pulled to the back and curled, falling over the rest of her straight, shiny hair. Sam saw that as he looked down when the first thing he did was hug her. He had to bend even more than he remembered. She was well over a foot shorter than he was.

Her shirt hung loosely off one shoulder and bore the emblem of some band Sam had never heard of. A duffel bag was slung over her other shoulder. She had no jacket, even though it was cold outside.

‘Please,’ Sam said, stepping to the side, ‘come in.’

Aroura crossed into the room with dainty steps, like she was floating. That hadn’t changed.

‘It’s bigger than you described,’ Aroura noted, looking around her. ‘From the outside it’s huge. I thought it would be smaller.’

‘I didn’t want to sound like I was exaggerating,’ Sam said shyly. ‘Can I take your bag? Show you to your room?’

‘Thank you,’ Aroura beamed, handing her bag over.

Sam took the bag and walked by her side.

‘Your hair’s longer,’ he commented.

‘Speak for yourself,’ Aroura replied, looking up at Sam with an angelic smile. ‘And you’re taller. Woah. I didn’t think that was possible.’

‘Just under six five,’ Sam said proudly. ‘What was I back then? Six one? Six two?’

‘Something like that,’ Aroura laughed.

Her laugh seemed to brighten the room. Literally. The lights seemed brighter. Was that a savior thing? So far, and in his days of talking to her, she hadn’t seemed savior-like at all. She had just seemed … normal. Part of Sam wondered if she was The Savior at all.

‘You don’t look like you’ve changed at all,’ Sam observed.

‘That’s not true,’ Aroura corrected him. ‘I got four tattoos.’

‘Interesting,’ Sam noted, nodding. They had talked so easily online and on the phone. But this … this felt odd. Being in her presence after sixteen, almost seventeen years. ‘So who’s looking after your dog?’

Dog. She’d mentioned a dog when they were messaging. Dog was always a safe place to go conversation wise.

‘My grandma,’ Aroura replied, some enthusiasm coming into her general air of unease. ‘Oh my god, you would _love_ my dog. You do like dogs right?’

‘I’d have ten of them if my brother would let me,’ Sam joked. ‘Yours is called Shrek, right?’

‘Wrong. His name is King Shrek Hanleia Larry McSnowpuff. Shrek for short.’

The way she said it made Sam laugh. Sure, she may have four tattoos now, but he stood by has statement that Aroura hadn’t changed a bit.

‘My apologies. I’ll remember that if we ever meet. Should I bow to this king?’

‘Oh yeah, for sure. Bow, and if he comes up to you then you can pet him. His Royal Highness is very fussy about people he meets.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Sam promised as they reached one of the many never-used bedrooms in the place, which used to be used as sleeping quarters for the Men of Letters. ‘Here it is. I cleaned up a little. Sorry it’s so … dull.’

‘No, please, don’t worry about it,’ Aroura requested before he’d even finished his sentence. ‘As long as there’s a bed, I’m good.’

‘Damn it. The one thing I forgot about.’

Aroura’s laugh was the same. A small giggle where she placed her hand over her mouth and her eyes brightened up. Sam was almost embarrassed by the odd rush of feelings that came back as if they’d never left. It was like no time had passed between them. Sam slid Aroura’s bag off his shoulder and handed to her. She took it and walked into the small room. She left her bag on her bed and walked back out again.

‘I love the room,’ she declared, grinning up at Sam looking impressed. ‘It’s quaint. I don’t get a lot of quaint.’

She had always been so polite and so grateful for every little thing. That hadn’t changed either. She was the exact same, she was acting the same, she was acting like they’d only seen each other last just yesterday … Sam could get on board with that. It seemed easy. Easier than thinking of her as The Savior. Seeing her made the memories of every second they’d spent together come back vividly.

‘I’ll bet. So would you like some coffee? I’d say we could go out for it but there’s nowhere around here. The only decent places are all a half hour or more away, but we’ve got a coffee maker in the kitchen.’

‘Coffee would be good.’

‘And we have mince pies.’

‘Also good.’

‘Good. I’m glad.’ Sam started leading the way to the kitchen. ‘So how long are you staying?’

‘I was hoping to stay until January, maybe,’ Aroura replied. ‘If that’s okay. I’m not crashing or anything, right?’

‘No, of course not. We have a few people coming over the day after tomorrow and staying until the day after Christmas but I’m sure they won’t mind you being here.’

‘And your brother? Or your friend who lives here?’

‘Shouldn’t be back until later, and if they’ve got any objections, they can get over it.’

‘So you’re rebellious, then.’

‘You could say that.’

‘Good. I like that in people. No one wants a sheep.’

Sam nodded. He agreed, and he’d been a tad more rebellious than Aroura knew. He’d been the one to call Jody and invite her and the others over, he’d been the one to suggest she suggest to Dean it was her idea, he knew that Dean would probably want to go back to Kansas City for gifts and he knew that he’d take Cas with him. And now he was about to make a call that would extend their visit so that they wouldn’t be back until night, or maybe even the next day if they decided to stay away another night.

When they reached the kitchen, Sam gestured for Aroura to take a seat and went straight over to the coffee maker. Aroura, ever observant, was quick to notice there were cooking utensils in the sink.

‘You cook?’ she assumed. ‘Or your brother or your friend does?’

‘I’ve been cooking,’ Sam confirmed. ‘Practicing how to make Christmas dinner. Turkey. The first one exploded. Most of the second is in the fridge.’

‘Deep fryer?’ Aroura presumed.

‘Yeah. Didn’t go too well for the turkey or the fryer.’

While Sam waited for the coffee maker to work, he got a plate and filled it with the rest of the mince pies from the box he’d bought.

‘My grandparents had a cook who tried deep frying a turkey once,’ Aroura told him. ‘It didn’t work out. The cook was fired the next day.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. But another time my friend’s dad deep fried a turkey at thanksgiving and that went okay. It took a long time though.’

‘Better a long time than an exploding bird, though, am I right?’

‘Very right indeed.’

Sam smiled. The way Aroura spoke, the way she formed her sentences, it was completely indescribable. She had a unique way of speaking and everything she said always seemed so casual yet so matter-of-fact at the same time and almost everything she said sounded like it excited her. She was just … happy. A happy person in general. Sam rarely saw anyone like that anymore.

When the coffee was ready, he poured too mugs and put them on the table, one in front of Aroura and the other across from her in front of where he would sit.

‘Do you mind if I go and make a quick call?’ Sam asked apologetically. ‘There’s some stuff I need my brother to pick up and bring back with him.’

‘Go ahead,’ Aroura chirped.

Sam smiled gratefully and pulled out his phone as he left the room, already dialing Dean’s number. He walked away from the kitchen until he was sure Aroura wouldn’t hear him before he called. Dean picked up after four rings.

‘We got the cards first if that’s what you’re calling to remind us about,’ was Dean’s greeting.

‘No, actually,’ Sam replied. ‘I have a few extra things you need to get.’

‘Like …?’

‘For a start, we need a new deep fryer. Or you do. You’re the only one who makes fries around here. And second, we need a TV.’

‘A TV,’ Dean repeated.

‘Yeah,’ Sam confirmed. ‘A big one. And make it a smart TV so I can hook my laptop up to it. We’re gonna need something decent to watch Home Alone on, aren’t we?’

‘I guess …’

‘And find a stand, or a way to hang it on the wall or something, and get everything you need to do that.’

‘I’m pretty sure that’s implied.’

‘Yeah, yeah – and I need you to pick up some more Christmas decorations.’

‘ _What_?’

‘A mini tree, stuff to put on that, some tinsel, ornaments, whatever. Can you do that?’

‘ _Why_?’

‘Don’t ask why. Just do. Okay?’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘That’s it. Wait – no – groceries. Stock up on groceries.’

‘Groceries.’

‘Yeah. More coffee, get tea, get biscuits, chocolates, all the good Christmassy treats, chips, drinks, whatever, then get normal stuff. We need to have stuff our guests can eat. So breakfast stuff, lunch stuff, you get the idea.’

Dean was extremely puzzled by Sam’s sudden demands, but he didn’t want to argue or ask why Sam was speaking so fast.

‘You do realize this might make us have to stay here another night don’t you? It’s already two thirty.’

‘Whatever it takes,’ Sam shrugged, sounding indifferent.

‘Right … is that everything?’

‘Yeah, that’s everything.’

‘Good. I’ll see you tonight. Or tomorrow. Whenever.’

‘Yeah, see you.’

Dean hung up and turned towards Cas, who was holding two of every Black Sabbath shirt in Hot Topic. There were only four of them, and they were all men’s, but that hardly mattered. Size small would fit a petite female. He also had two packets of women’s socks with fun yet bad-ass designs on them.

As well as the shirts, Dean was also holding some other things he’d picked up, but he was concealing them in a bag, declaring that what was in the bag would be a ‘surprise.’

‘What did Sam want?’ Cas asked, assuming it was Sam.

‘To give us a shopping list,’ Dean informed him. ‘Come on. Let’s pay. We need to find a TV, a deep fryer and a mini Christmas Tree.’

They had already gotten their other gifts for Jody and Donna, plus some wrapping paper, and now they had their gifts for Claire and Alex. They had been expecting to be on their way back after this, having already thrown their overnight bags into the Impala and checked out of the motel, but apparently not.

‘Where are we going to get those?’ Cas asked.

‘Where did you and Sam get the tree you guys got?’

‘Home Depot in Merriam. It’s about twenty minutes from here.’

‘Then that’s where we’re going to get those.’

Cas had a good memory and knew Home Depot better than Dean did upon arrival. They got a brand new, shiny deep fryer, followed by the small tree Sam had requested. There was literally only one type of small tree left and it was only twenty nine inches tall, but Dean decided it would do. They got some ornaments for it and some tinsel and some tacky stuff like acrylic snowflakes and Dean decided that was enough of that.

The TV they got was almost four hundred dollars and it was absolutely enormous. It took up the entire back seat of the car. The wallmount and tools, also purchased at Home Depot, along with the tree and ornaments, took up the floor. Shopping around the store had taken them a little over an hour.

Dean decided to go to the nearest Walmart for an abundance of holiday junk food, normal breakfast foods like different cereals, some lunch foods like microwave burgers and hotdogs and other stuff he didn’t pay much attention to, beer, coffee and carious weird teas since he couldn’t be sure who liked to drink what. They got a whole load of different sodas too. After paying, Dean decided to get other stuff like milk or anything from the frozen section in a store closer to home.

After Cas and the shopping bags were all back in the car, Dean briefly ran back in to make another purchase he didn’t tell Cas about and he kept the bag under his seat.

The drive back was as eventful as the drive there had been: not at all. Cas read, Dean listened to his tapes, they shared an exchange or two. Remarks about Sam and his oddly timed list, wonderings about what it would be like having guests over, Cas asking more about what Jody and Donna were like having never met them. Dean told him, and he also told him exactly how they’d meet Alex and Jody had ended up taking her in. Cas had already known to an extent, but didn’t know all the details.

Cas was mostly happy to be able to look over at Dean every now and then and think about how glad he was that nothing had changed between them. In fact, their relationship seemed almost easier now there wasn’t all this built up tension between them. The only hard thing about it was the fact that Cas wanted to be constantly touching Dean now that he could. But Castiel had always had good self-restraint.

They were back at the bunker by ten. They would have been by nine thirty if Dean hadn’t forgotten his plan to pick up more stuff at a nearer, nearer still being an hour away, grocery store, causing him to have to turn the car around and drive back in the direction they’d been coming from.

The bunker seemed deserted when they finally arrived back. Sam wasn’t anywhere he usually was. Not the main room, the library, the kitchen, the round tabled room … Dean assumed he’d gone to bed early as he and Cas headed into the kitchen to put the groceries away.

‘You’d think he’d at least stay up to tell us what the fuck he was thinking when he decided to ambush us with a shopping list,’ Dean muttered, pulling open the freezer and throwing all the frozen food in as Cas stocked the cupboards (the bunker hadn’t come with cupboards – Sam and Dean had had to install some) with junk.

‘He was thinking of our guests, surely,’ Castiel reasoned. ‘Where should I put these?’ he asked, pointing at all the bottles of soda.

‘Somewhere no one will trip over them,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Would it be wrong if I opened one of these tins of biscuits?’

‘Why would it be wrong?’

‘Because they’re for our guests or for Christmas or some shit.’

Castiel shrugged.

‘You shopped for them. There’s four tins. I think it’s safe to say you can open –’

Castiel stopped when he heard footsteps behind him, assuming Sam was up. Dean heard them too and turned towards the door, all ready to say ‘well look who decided to make an appearance’ when he stopped short at the tiny woman in the doorway, wearing nothing but a loose t-shirt.

‘Oh,’ said the woman, seeming to freeze up, her eyes wide. Her mouth open and closed like a fish for a second before she stammered, ‘I just – I came to get – I wanted – you know what I’ll – I’ll just –’

She backed out of the doorway and they heard her footsteps walking away briefly before those walking steps sounded like she was literally sprinting away. 

‘Who was …?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean answered, frowning at the now-empty doorway. ‘But she looked weirdly familiar.’

‘I guess we know why Sam wanted us out of the way longer,’ Cas speculated.

‘I guess so,’ Dean agreed. He was still thrown from the unexpected appearance of whoever this woman was. ‘He should know better than to bring chicks back here.’

‘It’s not like there’s anywhere in the area they could go,’ Cas reasoned.

‘It’s not like there’s anyone in the area he could _find_ someone to have a reason to look for some place to go,’ Dean corrected, looking back at the doorway and frowning again. ‘Where the hell did she come from?’

‘Rent-a-girl?’ Cas suggested jokingly.

‘Hardly,’ said Dean, shaking his head. ‘Listen. If there’s two things I know for a fact Sam doesn’t pay for, it’s sex and haircuts.’

‘Dean, of course he pays for haircuts. Hair grows an average of six inches per year. And I’ve known Sam for seven years. Six inches a year for seven years is forty two inches. That’s three and a half feet. And we both know Sam’s hair may be long, but it’s not _that_ long.’

Dean looked astonished by Castiel’s fast calculations.

‘I was just kidding,’ Dean clarified.

‘And my calculating that in response to your joke despite the fact that I knew it was a joke was a joke in itself.’

It took Dean a moment, but then he shook his head, muttering, ‘you’re such a dork’ under his breath in an amused tone.

‘Is that a good thing?’ Castiel asked hopefully.

‘Of course it’s a good thing,’ Dean confirmed, playfully slapping Cas’s shoulder. ‘Be proud of your dorkiness, pal. You’re amazing that way.’

Cas smiled, looking at the look in Dean’s eyes he’d seen many times before but hadn’t truly appreciated until now. He wondered if it was cocky to say it was a look of adoration. Maybe. Maybe not. Although he hoped it was.

‘You’re back.’

Both Dean and Castiel snapped their heads towards the doorway. The tiny woman was back, now wrapped in a robe that was very obviously Sam’s, half hidden by Sam who was thankfully clothed more than the woman had been on her first appearance.

‘Getting everything didn’t take as long as we expected,’ Dean replied, half way through pulling a large bag of chips out of a shopping bag. ‘But don’t worry. As soon as we’re done here we’ll go hide in our rooms with earplugs and let you finish what you’ve started.’

‘Dean, this is Aroura,’ Sam announced, as if that made everything completely different.

Dean dropped the chips. He briefly glanced at Cas, knowing Cas was thinking the same thing as he was, but couldn’t risk Sam noticing anything odd between the two of them. As far as Sam knew, to Dean, Aroura was just a name from the past he probably wouldn’t remember.

‘So _that’s_ why you look familiar,’ he addressed Aroura, trying to act completely natural. Like he wasn’t standing in the presence of someone who might have been the heavenly savior or whatever.

‘Hi, Dean,’ Aroura said almost shyly, though she had never been one to be shy, from her hiding spot behind Sam. ‘And hi … who I assume is Castiel?’

‘You assume correctly,’ Cas established.

‘Hey, Aroura,’ said Dean, reaching down to pick up the chips he’d dropped.

‘You should go get your water,’ Sam told Aroura, bending closer to her and speaking more quietly. ‘The glasses are in that cupboard there.’

Sam pointed. Aroura nodded and almost nervously crept away from Sam and headed for the cupboard.

‘We got everything you told us to,’ said Dean, trying not to stare at Aroura as she moved shyly about the kitchen. ‘We left the Christmas stuff and the TV stuff in the car, we didn’t know what you wanted us to do with that.’

‘Tell me when you want to move the television,’ Cas chipped in. ‘It’s too heavy for one person to carry.’

‘Hey – remember when Ozzy Osbourne tried to steal a TV and it fell on him?’ Dean quipped suddenly, looking at Cas.

‘I recall that part of what you told me,’ Cas nodded, then glanced at Sam who had warned him earlier about reminding Dean of Ozzy-stories.

Once Aroura had her glass of water, she returned to Sam’s side. Sam put his arm around her protectively.

‘We’ll just get going, then,’ Sam announced, already backing out of the room with Aroura at his side.

‘Yeah. We’ll finish up here and then … y’know. Earplugs.’

Sam glared at Dean over his shoulder after he’d turned around and started heading away. Sam’s robe trailed behind them, far too big for Aroura, like a cape. Once their footsteps had died away, Dean and Cas turned to each other.

‘Wasn’t that – ’

‘The first version of The Savior?’ Dean finished for him. ‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was. What the hell?’

‘I don’t know. Do you think Sam _knows_ …?’

‘Probably?’ Dean assumed. ‘I mean, come on, why else would she be here?’

‘For sex?’

‘Well, yeah, but besides that … shouldn’t he have told us or something? That he found The Savior?’

‘Maybe. Actually, definitely. Maybe he will tomorrow. We don’t know.’

‘I guess …’

Dean put the last of the stuff away and moved the deep fryer into the position the old one had been in. He didn’t bother unboxing it or plugging it in or any of that stuff. He’d deal with that when he needed to use it. Lastly, he grabbed his own personal bag of stuff he’d gotten on his solo trip into Walmart, grabbed his overnight bag which he’d left down, and headed for the door, Cas at his side.

‘So what are you going to do now?’ Cas asked, looking at Dean as they walked.

‘Headphones and Highway to Hell. You?’

‘The same, but the highway is to Seattle Grace Hospital.’

‘Good call.’

They continued on in silence until they reached Cas’s room. They lingered outside the door for a moment, Dean checking the coast was clear, then kissed each other goodnight. It wouldn’t be as good as last night, but they were only a few walls away from each other.

‘Enjoy your music,’ was Cas’s parting greeting.

‘Enjoy your dreamy doctors,’ was Dean’s.

In Sam’s room close by, where they could hear two doors closing signaling Dean and Castiel were both safely in their rooms, Sam turned to face Aroura.

‘I think the coast is clear,’ he whispered, running a finger down Aroura’s now-bare arm. ‘You can run to your room.’

‘I think I’d rather stay here,’ said Aroura, turning so that instead of leaning against Sam, she was facing into his side. She threw an arm across his torso. ‘I missed you.’

‘You say that like it’s only been a month since we last saw each other.’

‘Hasn’t it been?’

Aroura blinked up at him, her eyes innocent, mesmerizing, and exactly the way they’d looked when the two of them were sixteen.

‘I wish,’ Sam sighed. ‘But the fact is that we’ve both led completely different lives since we last saw each other.’

‘I have a dog and I live in a town house near my grandparents,’ Aroura stated. ‘You have no dog and you’re still with your brother. Not that much has happened.’

‘It’s been almost seventeen years.’

‘Seventeen _boring_ years. Come on, Sam.’ Aroura sat up and got on her knees, staring at him with a mischievous glare in her eyes. ‘Can’t we just pretend for tonight that it’s just been a month? We can talk about whatever deep meaningful experiences we’ve had since we were kids tomorrow.’

‘You want to act like we’re sixteen again?’

‘Sure. But with longer hair, more tattoos and without the really bad sex.’

Sam laughed. Aroura was a complete stranger to him, yet something about her … it _was_ like he was sixteen again. Sixteen with an enormous crush on the girl he’d just met that day in English class. Thinking of tattoos, Sam’s finger found the inverted cross on Aroura’s inner thigh and stroked it. Or at least he hoped he was stroking in the right place. He wasn’t exactly looking. He was too busy with her eyes, business-like yet impish at the same time. Sam cracked.

‘So what was the algebra homework again? Add u-plus-I and you get … what?’

‘Actually it’s chemistry homework,’ Aroura corrected, climbing into Sam’s lap. ‘It’s some kind of magnesium iron silicate hydroxide formation that I can’t remember the formula for.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘What’s it called?’

Aroura kissed him.

‘It’s calling Cummingtonite.’

‘ _What_?’

She kissed him again.

‘Seriously. Google it tomorrow.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

Aroura folded her arms, frowning down at Sam.

‘Do you want to argue about chemistry or do you actually want to _have_ chemistry, Sam?’

‘Have, please.’

‘Then be quiet.’

Aroura quickly pulled her shirt off again and started on the buttons of the one Sam had hastily thrown on when she’d appeared telling him that his brother and friend were home.

‘What happens if I’m not quiet?’ Sam teased.

‘Do you _want_ me to put my shirt back on?’

‘You wouldn’t. What happens?’

‘Then you completely traumatize your brother and your poor friend.’

‘Okay,’ Sam promised, ‘I’ll be quiet.’

Sam kept true to his promise for the most part. Aroura remained completely silent apart from her breathing. Sam didn’t know how Aroura had always seemed to remain such a silent creature. She’d been the same when they were kids. If you weren’t in a quiet place, you wouldn’t hear her coming unless she decided to speak. If you were somewhere quiet, all you’d hear of her would be her light footsteps. And if she didn’t want you to know she was there, you definitely wouldn’t know.

Aroura was still asleep when Sam woke up, her hair spread out across the pillow, her legs curled into her chest. It was an extremely unusual sight. Sam was used to an empty bed every morning. An empty bed and a mostly-clear head seemed to be his thing. Yet now, there was someone in his bed to leave a note for and his head was completely messed up.

As Sam wrote a note for Aroura, telling her he’d either be in the kitchen or figuring out how to hook up the new TV when she woke up if he wasn’t back before then. Then, in his head, he tried to go over the events of the previous day. Aroura had arrived, they’d talked, mentioning some stuff they’d talked about during their time messaging and making calls, then going back to some memories from when they were kids that they barely thought of but remembered easily once they were brought up, then suddenly they were in bed together.

What he wanted to know the most was … why did this seem so normal? To just pick back up after not seeing each other for so long? After only having been together for six months when they were _kids_? It didn’t make any sense.

But, he guessed, Aroura had always been that way. Like some kind of mesmerizing trap he thought about for years after she was gone. He could’ve sworn he saw her through Lucifer’s eyes once too, as he struggled to remain conscious inside of his own possessed body, but maybe that was just Lucifer playing tricks on him.

Another thing Sam wasn’t used to was Dean being up before him, but there he was, sitting across from Cas in the kitchen when Sam wandered in there on a quest for morning coffee.

‘Morning,’ Dean greeted while Sam grabbed a mug. ‘You’re up late.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Eleven.’

Sam frowned at him while pouring coffee. It couldn’t be that late, surely? But when Dean held up his phone at Sam’s bewildered look, there was no mistaking it. He slid in beside Cas at the table.

‘Weird. I didn’t mean to sleep so long.’

‘Uh huh,’ Dean muttered, then got straight to the point. ‘So what’s the deal with you and this Aroura chick?’

Sam looked taken aback and gave Dean a vaguely confused and moderately offended look. Castiel noticed and was quick to jump in.

‘What he means is, how did you come to be in contact with Aroura again?’

‘Accidentally,’ Sam shrugged. ‘I was on the internet looking up some stuff and found her Facebook page. We got talking and I invited her over. I told her you guys wouldn’t mind. You _don’t_ mind, do you?’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look. Cas raised his eyebrows. They’d already talked this morning about what way Dean was going to pretend to react: there was the “we know the truth” way, the “how could you jeopardize the safety of this place” way or the “yeah, sure, whatever” way. They’d chosen the latter, although it was slightly out of character, because Dean knew dragging strangers into the bunker could put them all in danger should those strangers tell anyone their whereabouts or, something that could easily happen, stumble across something and get suspicious about what they do.

 ‘No, I don’t mind,’ Dean answered carefully. ‘As long as she doesn’t _find out_ anything,’ he said clearly, ‘or wander into any _locked rooms_ if you catch my drift.’

‘Don’t worry. As far as she knows we’re freelance news reporters,’ Sam promised. ‘Dumb, I know, but it covers the whole researching, watching the news and listening in on police radios stuff.’

‘Reporters, got it,’ said Dean, nodding. But he knew that Aroura knew they weren’t reporters. He didn’t know why she was here and pretending to be whatever she was pretending to be, but he knew she was The Savior, or one of the versions of her, which he had assumed had vanished whenever she shifted forms, but he guessed not.

‘How long is your friend going to be staying with us?’ Cas asked, glancing at Dean and sensing he wasn’t about to get out of his own thoughts any time soon.

‘Up until the New Year, I think,’ Sam answered. ‘She said January. She didn’t give me an exact date.’

‘We hope she’ll be comfortable,’ Cas replied, looking at Sam respectfully. ‘Right, Dean?’

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded, ‘right. So,’ he said, a little too loudly, ‘what are you planning to do with the TV and the Christmas crap?’

‘I told you about my living room idea, right?’ Sam asked.

‘Yeah, you mentioned it.’

‘I thought we should get started on that. We promised Cas we’d show him Home Alone, so we should do it style. Huge TV. Fire. Junk food. All of us, everyone who’s coming, almost like … like a family, I guess.’

There had been a lot of additions and subtractions to this fucked up “family” over the years. Right now, Sam, Dean and Cas were the only original members left. And even the three of them had come and gone a few times, with their constant dying and what not.

‘And the Christmas crap?’ Dean persisted.

‘We can’t watch Christmas movies without decorations in the room we’re doing it in,’ Sam shrugged.

‘Of course you can’t,’ Dean muttered.

Dean and Cas exchanged another look as Sam quickly drank the rest of his coffee and stood up to refill his mug.

‘I’m taking this one to Aroura,’ Sam announced. ‘Can you guys get the rest of the stuff you got yesterday into the living room?’

‘Of course,’ Castiel said quickly, before Dean had a chance to respond. ‘You go to Aroura. You can meet us in the … living room.’

Even Cas had to hesitate, but Sam didn’t notice and nodded before he left. Dean looked completely disgusted.

‘ _Living room_ ,’ he hissed distastefully. ‘What’s next, flowery shower curtains?’

‘Come on,’ Cas coaxed, ‘you can’t be that against having a living room in this place. You lived in an actual house once, remember?’

‘Yeah. I remember,’ Dean said darkly. He threw back the last of his coffee and stood up. ‘It’s not that. I can get on board with having a living room. I can get on board with the giant TV. And the Christmas thing? Yeah, I’ll admit, I’m looking forward to that, but what I can’t get on board with is Sam lying to us.’

‘The cycle continues,’ Castiel sighed, following Dean over to the sink where he’d now wandered to as he spoke. ‘One brother lies to the other. Over and over. Until everything blows up.’

‘The cycle continues,’ Dean repeated gloomily.

Dean rinsed out Cas’s mug after he’d done his own and headed for the door, expecting Cas to follow. When he noticed his angelic shadow was still by the sink, frowning and doing that eye-squint thing he often did, he stopped and walked back over to face Cas with his arms folded. When Cas looked up, Dean was ready for whatever it was he’d been thinking about.

‘What if he doesn’t realize?’

Okay, maybe he wasn’t ready for that.

‘Doesn’t realize what?’

‘Doesn’t realize Aroura is The Savior,’ Castiel clarified.

‘I’m not following.’

‘What if he just … looked her up, expecting The Savior, but found the real Aroura instead? Or what if Aroura was just a host body for The Savior to take over? Or – or maybe the lives The Savior creates become real lives even when they’re not her anymore, or maybe she doesn’t remember who she is, or maybe … some other thing.’

Dean considered it. It didn’t seem likely, but it didn’t exactly seem _unlikely_ either. And Aroura last night hadn’t exactly seemed like a heavenly savior. She seemed small and shy but still … like the kind of creature that should be wearing a long white dress and living on a cloud, just like she’d seemed when Dean had met her the handful of times sixteen years ago. Maybe that was just the kind of person she was. Obnoxiously angelic, or cute, or child-like even when grown.

‘Let’s face it,’ Dean decided. ‘You could be wrong. You could be right. We don’t know anything about The Savor, about Aroura, about what’s going on with her and Sam … so let’s just go haul in that giant TV and keep a close eye on her whenever we’re around her.’

Castiel nodded. He walked towards the door, Dean following him this time rather than it being the other way around.

‘You have to be nice to her, though,’ Cas reminded him.

‘Oh yeah, of course,’ Dean promised. ‘She’s screwing Sam. You _always_ have to be nice to the chick that’s screwing your brother. You know, unless they’re demons. Then you stab them.’

‘And if they’re angels?’ Cas asked curiously.

‘You keep your nose out of it even after your brother and whatever angel it is tell you about it. And besides, I don’t believe there’s a brother around here that’s actually _screwing_ an angel, Cas.’

‘Well, you know what I mean,’ said Cas. ‘I’m just happy to hear that angels don’t get stabbed.’

Like with the giant Christmas Tree, the hardest part about maneuvering the TV through the bunker was the visual part. Cas was taking most of the weight of the thing, but he was walking backwards, relying on what he could see over his shoulder and on Dean’s direction. They got it through, though, and into the “living room”, and on the second trip they got the rest of the stuff.

‘So how the hell do we get it up on the wall?’ Dean wondered out loud, staring at the stuff in front of him. ‘And _where_?’

‘The wall beside the book case, I presume,’ Castiel replied. ‘That’s directly across from the couch, so therefore it would be prime placement.’

‘That’s exactly where it should go, you’re right,’ said Sam, entering the room. Aroura was at his side, fully dressed today, in a loose tank top and jeans. There was a tattoo on her shoulder, which looked like the footprints of a dog and wolf walking together.

‘Any bright ideas on how to get this thing up on the wall, genius?’

‘Uh … no.’

‘I could help with that,’ Aroura piped up, causing all three of the others in the room to look at her. ‘My friend and I set up my television using a wall bracket that looks like that one. I could tell you guys what to do.’

‘Please. Tell us _exactly_ what to do,’ Dean requested, not really caring if he was talking to The Savior or not as long as they could get this thing up on the wall without smashing up the entire room.

It turned out that Aroura, savior or not, was pretty useful. She knew exactly how to mount the TV and exactly how to set it up and her instructions were simple and she didn’t have to repeat a single thing. She helped with the decorating of the room too. Dean and Cas got stuck with decorating the tiny tree, while Sam and Aroura draped the brand new shiny TV in tinsel. The TV had been placed pretty high up the wall, so Sam lifted Aroura with ease, allowing her to do the draping.

Dean leaned close to Cas, on the pretense of grabbing another bauble, and muttered, ‘they don’t see each other for sixteen years and now look at them.’

‘What’s to look at?’ Cas asked, glancing at the pair.

‘They look like they’re … together.’

‘Aren’t they?’

‘They haven’t seen each other in years. They don’t even know each other. How could they be?’

Castiel shrugged, trying to hang a stubborn bauble on a droopy branch tip.

‘Maybe they’re soulmates,’ he said quietly.

Dean almost dropped his bauble. He glanced back at the pair, now draping the bookcase, and stared at Cas.

‘You seriously believe in that crap?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘Maybe.’

Cas played with the bauble in his hand. It still wouldn’t hang.

‘Cas, you don’t even have a soul. Not a human soul anyway.’

‘You don’t have to have a soul to believe in soulmates,’ Cas mumbled sheepishly, staring into the fireplace they were kneeling by, which is where they were putting the tree. ‘You don’t even have to have a soul to _have_ one. Or at least … that’s what I think.’

Cas refused to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean didn’t say anything else on the matter for a moment. Instead, he took the bauble Cas was fondling right out of his hand and tackled the droopy tip.

‘Try putting it farther back,’ he said gently now, pushing the bauble back to the middle of the branch, ‘and try bending the end of the branch up so the thing doesn’t slide off again. See?’

Castiel nodded. He still wouldn’t look Dean in the eyes. He hadn’t liked Dean’s jab about him not having a soul. Instead, he paid a glance to Sam and Aroura, who had finished up and were now whispering about something or another. As if sensing Cas’s gaze, Sam looked over at him and Dean on their knees on the floor.

‘Hey, you guys, we were just going to grab some lunch in the kitchen. Do you guys want anything?’

Dean looked at Cas, who looked at the tree. Dean answered for both of them.

‘We’re good. We’ll catch up.’

Sam and Aroura left the room, holding hands and still whispering like two school kids. It was weird seeing Sam like that. Cas was watching too.

‘They seem happy,’ Cas commented coolly, fishing around some of the remaining tree ornaments.

‘So, say they are “soulmates” like you said,’ Dean continued as if they’d never dropped the subject, ‘what exactly does that mean?’

‘It varies, most likely,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘People are different. For some people it could mean that even if they haven’t seen each other for a long time they can still pick up where they left off no matter how long it’s been. For some it could just mean putting up with each other no matter what. For some it could mean two people share a … a bond.’ It sounded like Cas had been about to say something else before deciding on the word “bond.” ‘But if that’s just crap, well then, never mind.’

Dean groaned. He’d upset Cas. That definitely hadn’t been intentional. He grabbed Cas’s hand as it headed for another branch and pushed it down, then nudged Cas’s face so he had no choice but to look at him.

‘Cas, I’m sorry I called what you believe in crap,’ he said sincerely, then added, as an after-thought upon realizing perhaps it wasn’t the nicest thing to remind someone of, ‘and I’m sorry I said you don’t have a soul. You have grace, and that’s like having a soul but for angels, right?’

Cas tilted his head to the side, shrugging a little, acting like he was indifferent.

‘I guess,’ he mumbled.

Dean glanced at the door and then looked at Cas again, placed his hand on his cheek and kissed him softly. A ghost of a smile came back onto Cas’s face.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dean repeated. ‘Please. Feel free to tell me everything you know about soulmates whenever you want. And please hurry up with this stupid tree, you know all I had for breakfast was coffee and I’m starving.’

Cas smiled.

‘You know, you haven’t had any pie in several days. I’m surprised you’re still alive.’

Realization that Cas was right dawned upon Dean and his eyes widened over-dramatically.

‘I feel faint.’

‘Well fall backwards if you faint. If you fall forwards you’ll mess up the tree and we’ll have to start all over again.’

‘Oh shit, no. My knees fucking hurt.’

‘Then fill those empty spaces and we’ll go get you some pie and give your knees a break.’

‘Try taking that out of context,’ Dean muttered, speeding up in his decorating.

Cas laughed, very quietly, and Dean was sure there was a pink tinge in his cheeks that hadn’t been there a second ago.

They finished off the last few branches of the tree and stood up. Cas looked over at Dean as they walked towards the door and smiled at him, his smile almost shy. Dean returned it, his own half-smile lazy and easy, and briefly rested his hand on Cas’s back, dropping it as they continued to walk, heading for the kitchen.

Sam and Aroura weren’t in there anymore. Dean and Cas actually passed them when they were on the way to the kitchen and Sam seemed to be giving Aroura a tour of the bunker while carrying food around with them. Sam called out as Dean and Castiel passed.

‘What are the two of you doing today?’ he asked.

Dean shrugged, looking at Cas, who looked just as indifferent.

‘Why?’ Dean asked.

‘No reason,’ Sam shrugged. ‘I’m taking Aroura out and showing her around the area. We’ll be leaving after I finish showing her around this place.’

‘Have fun,’ Dean offered, vaguely registering he and Cas would be alone today. Probably for just an hour or something, thanks to the deadness of the area in which they lived, but it was something.

‘Yeah, we will. Don’t throw any parties while we’re out.’

‘Don’t get drunk and come home let smelling like drugs, sweat and tears.’

‘We can’t make any promises.’

Dean registered the use of “we’re” and “we”. That was … weird.

Once in the kitchen, Cas made himself coffee while Dean grabbed plates. Supposing that it was the holidays and he didn’t have to eat actual food, he broke into a lot of the stuff they’d bought yesterday. They’d gotten plenty of pie, so he put a large slice each on their plates, followed by random biscuits, chocolates, chips and some chocolate marshmallow treats. He poured them both classes of coke and brought the stuff to the table where Cas was sitting drinking his coffee quickly to get it out of the way. It really was nuisance to have to drink it every time he wanted to eat something.

‘That’s your lunch?’ Cas asked, eyeing up the plates with his eyebrows raised.

‘Breakfast, technically,’ Dean replied, going to grab forks before he sat down. ‘Why?’

‘It’s a very … wide selection of junk food.’

‘It’s always good to have options,’ Dean justified, digging straight into the pie. ‘And it’s Christmas. You’re supposed to eat twice your own body weight in junk at Christmas.’

Cas picked up one of the chocolates and took it out of its rapper.

‘Perhaps that’s why Christmas only comes once a year,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘And why people want it to come more often.’

‘That, and presents,’ Dean agreed. ‘Speaking of presents, did you happen to get me anything?’

‘Yes, actually.’

Dean frowned. He hadn’t been serious.

‘Besides all the weird stuff you and Sam bought that’s under the tree, I mean,’ he clarified. ‘And by the way, I was kidding.’

‘I know you were. That doesn’t change the fact that besides the Supernatural stuff and various other joke presents Sam and I may have bought, I still got you something. The question is,’ Cas said seriously, raising his eyebrows at Dean and looking him squarely in the eyes, ‘is if _you_ got _me_ anything.’

Dean sat up a little straighter and proudly declared, ‘I _am_ the gift.’

Cas visibly cringed. Dean frowned at him.

‘Do you have the receipt?’ Castiel asked.

‘No,’ Dean firmly stated.

‘Do you think if I gave you to charity someone would want you?’

‘No.’

‘Then ... thanks. I guess.’

Dean gave him a thoroughly unamused look. Cas smirked. Dean laughed.

‘I did actually get you something though,’ Dean informed him. ‘I wrapped the stuff last night.’

‘Stuff as in plural?’

‘Yeah. As in plural. It’s the stuff I got at Hot Topic yesterday that I wouldn’t let you see.’

Cas did that little part-frown part-smile thing he often did when he heard something unexpected that he liked. Dean’s automatic response to that was to smile right back, while trying not to, not wanting to show just how much happiness Cas’s expression brought him.

‘Thank you, Dean,’ Cas said sincerely.

‘Don’t mention it. Besides, Sam’s present is even better than yours is.’

‘What did you get him?’

‘A shirt with a moose on it,’ Dean grinned. ‘I found it months ago. I was going to give it to him for his birthday next year but this is as good a time as any.’

Cas laughed.

‘How fitting.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’

The pair fell silent and continued their “meal” which was more like a junk-montage. It was oddly peaceful, sitting across from each other, eating together, not talking, not thinking about anything they had to do involving monsters or demon deals or weird books. It was almost …

‘I’m _bored_ ,’ Dean promptly announced, upon finishing his meal.

‘Six days,’ Cas said triumphantly.

‘What?’

‘You managed six days. The last thing in relation to anything hunting related that we did was on the fifteenth. You went six _full_ days without complaining of boredom. And some of today and some of the fifteenth. I guess we can call that a week.’

‘You’ve been _counting_?’

‘Yes.’

Dean narrowed his eyes and stiffened his jaw.

‘You little shit.’

Cas’s smile was painfully smug and even more so sweet. Dean got to his feet and grabbed the dishes from the table and took them over to the sink. Cas watched him and wandered over to him after a moment, leaning against the wall next to the sink. Dean raised his eyebrows. Cas rarely leaned.

‘So what are you planning to do to stop your boredom?’ Cas asked, surveying Dean through eyes that seemed to be blinking more than usual.

Dean shrugged.

‘I could wash all the cars again. That usually works. Or we could go stare blankly at hot doctors doing stuff. That seems to have been working too.’

‘We could use the new television,’ Cas suggested. ‘And see what they look like even bigger and in high definition.’

‘McDreamy in high definition …’ Dean mulled, staring off into space as if imagining what it would be like. ‘I can get on board with that. Grab the open bag of chips and grab the open coke bottle. We’ll need snacks.’

Cas did as he was instructed as Dean washed off the forks they’d been using.

Once Dean had put away the dishes he’d just watched, he and Cas headed off towards the “living room” with their snacks in tow.  Cas shifted the chips and coke into one hand so the other was empty and free to dangle by his side, able to brush accidentally-on-purpose against Dean’s. Multiple times.

‘Cas, if you’re trying to get me to hold your hand, it’s not working,’ said Dean, still staring straight ahead looking as casual as ever. ‘If you want to do it just do it and if you don’t know if you can, ask.’

‘Then can –’

‘Yes,’ Dean said at once. ‘The answer to basically you anything you ask me will be yes.’

‘What if I asked if I could borrow your car for the sole purpose of driving straight at a wall without stopping?’

Dean narrowed his eyes at Castiel’s neutral expression. The neutral turned into a sly smirk at the look in Dean’s eyes.

‘Give me your stupid hand before I change my mind,’ Dean demanded, snatching up Cas’s hand and holding it moodily. ‘You’d think we’re in grade school.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Cas, though he didn’t sound sincere, ‘I should know better than to joke about your precious car. It won’t happen again.’

‘It better not.’

Dean had never been particularly big on the whole hand holding thing. Not since he was a little kid and saw someone he liked in school, or maybe if he was feeling excited about something involving someone, like the last time he and Cas had held hands while walking. But if Cas wanted to hold his hand now, even just for their casual stroll through the bunker, then Cas would get he wanted. Dean would give Cas anything he wanted.

It wasn’t that hard to figure out how to set Netflix up on the TV, and as soon as they did they were lost in the show again. However, the atmosphere of the room they were in seemed very different to the one of Cas’s bedroom, or even of the one in the motel. In the bedroom it was easier to forget the outside world existed and stay silent, staring and in one position for hours at a time. In the motel it seemed harder to concentrate on the show and easier to get bored even though the entertainment was right there on the screen. In this room, on the old couch that had been there for god knows how long, it seemed more … ordinary.  Or home-like. That thought disturbed Dean but brought him comfort at the same time; he didn’t want to feel like things were changing purely because of what room they were in and because of the giant TV and the Christmas stuff around him, but he did have to admit, he’d been living in the bunker for years and it still felt more like a business place with bedrooms and a kitchen than the place in which he lived.

Dean went from sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, to leaning against Cas with his legs beside him curled up on the couch, to laying with his head on a moderately dusty cushion which he put on the arm rest with his legs stretched out over Cas and then over the end of the opposite arm rest all within the space of one episode. Some of the way into episode two, Dean had to move so Cas could go get more coffee because the chips the two of them were slowly making their way through had started to taste less chip-y and more molecule-y, but he was able to stretch them right over Cas again when he returned.

Ten minutes later, Dean was using Cas’s shoulder to lean against, with his legs draped over the arm rest his head had just been on.

Castiel was very interested in Dean’s movements. From the very first shoulder lean where they were shoulder to shoulder, to the legs across him, to the back against the shoulder, Cas had been feeling grateful. Perhaps it was an odd thing to feel, perhaps he should instead have felt his heart hammering, his stomach fluttering, because he finally had Dean casually leaning against him when one of them wasn’t gravely injured or dying or something, but no. He felt grateful that Dean was finally _comfortable_ enough to do this.

Another thing he was grateful for was the fact that his and Dean’s relationship didn’t seem to have changed at all. He’d thought of it already the day before, but it occurred to him yet again now. They hadn’t gotten bored of each other, things weren’t awkward between them and they weren’t constantly gushing over each other. They were just … them. But easier. And, of course, allowed to touch each other inappropriately now. Or had the “inappropriate” become “appropriate” now?

‘Dean?’ Cas asked suddenly, turning his head to look down at the top of Dean’s.

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked.

‘Can I talk to you about something?’

‘Yeah, shoot.’

‘Could we pause the show first?’

Dean did as requested and moved so that he was sitting up straight next to Cas again. He turned towards him, Cas too shifting a little so they were more face-to-face. Part of Cas was annoyed that, yet again, he was forced to ask questions because of his cluelessness.

‘Go ahead,’ Dean urged.

Castiel sighed.

‘You and I are in a relationship now,’ he stated the obvious, waiting for Dean’s confirming nod, which followed. ‘And you said that no matter what I asked you, the answer would be yes.’ Another nod. ‘I would really like to not have to ask you.’

‘Then don’t,’ was Dean’s simple reply. ‘Just do whatever you want to do.’

‘But I feel the need to ask you,’ Castiel continued, explaining, ‘because I don’t know what is appropriate and what’s not, or when certain things are and are not. I enjoy physical contact with you, Dean,’ he established.

Dean nodded slowly.

‘Yeah, I think I get it. Go on.’

‘I think I do know what’s appropriate at what times,’ Castiel clarified, ‘but that’s just going from what I _think_ from observing people in relationships over the years. But with you, I’m unsure. For example, when walking, and we’re alone, I know that it’s okay if we hold hands. But what I don’t know is when it’s okay to perhaps … place my hand on you somewhere. Like when you had your legs across me, I wanted to rest my arms on them, but didn’t know if I should. And when you were leaning against my shoulder just now, I had the thought of placing my arm around you so you would be more against my side than my shoulder and arm and my arm would be draped over the shoulder of yours closest to the back of the couch, but again I hesitated.’

‘Cas, you can _always_ do stuff like that when we’re alone,’ Dean specified, and partly as an example, he reached out to gently touch Cas’s knee, letting his hand rest there a moment before slipping off. ‘If you want to do either of those things ever again, or just touch me when we’re talking about stuff, or whatever. Whatever you feel like doing, just do it. Poke my face, study my hands with a microscope, cling onto me like you’re about to fall off a cliff and I’m the only thing keeping you from doing it, just go right ahead. Don’t hesitate.’

Castiel was beyond grateful for how patient Dean was and how he explained everything so clearly without further probing to know exactly what Cas meant, what kinds of touches, and so on. He cleared everything up fast. Dean, on the other hand, knew what Cas was going through. He’d been this way with his first girlfriend back when he was a kid, but understood that it must have been even more confusing and difficult for Cas to grasp, because the two of them had been friends for so long and Cas just didn’t have that human instinct that he might have had when he was human but never got to explore.

‘Another thing is, I was wondering when it’s appropriate for me to kiss you,’ said Cas. ‘I’ve had the urge to do so for several years now, and now that I’ve gotten to, the urge seems to be stronger because I know what it’s like and it’s better than I imagined it would be.’

‘Just do it whenever you feel like it,’ Dean said with a shrug. ‘If we’re watching TV, if we’re talking, if we’re just walking, if you feel like doing it then you do it.’

‘But I feel like doing it _all_ the time,’ Cas remarked. ‘I look at you, I remember the other night, I get this odd pressure in my chest and a churning in my stomach and I feel the urge to close my eyes because suddenly my head has gone oddly light yet it feels like it’s being compressed at the same time, and the only way to make it stop is to force myself to stop thinking about the other night. Or, an alternative would be, to kiss you. And perhaps … not stop with kissing you.’

Dean nodded. He understood what Cas meant. And he’d gotten that feeling too, many times in his life, but he’d gotten used to it by now to the point where he barely even noticed it if he did at all. But for Cas, he knew that it would be relatively new, despite however many years he’d been thinking about it.

‘So … what would you stop with?’ Dean asked slowly. He already expected the answer.

Castiel hesitated. He was sure of what he was going to say, what he wanted, and what he had wanted for many years preceding this but had always forced out of his mind because it was _Dean_ , he couldn’t be having these thoughts about _Dean_ … but it felt odd to make such a blatant statement, out loud, to Dean, despite already having done acts of the same nature as what he wanted to do.

Dean wouldn’t mind the statement, surely. Dean talked about this kind of thing all the time.

‘I want to have sex you.’

Bingo.

‘And what would that entail, exactly, according to you?’ Dean asked.

‘The act commonly referred to as fucking,’ Cas explained, allowing himself a flicker of a smug look when he Dean’s physical reaction to Cas swearing, even if he was using said swear as a verb. ‘The kind where penetration of some kind is usually involved, when the couple involves a man and a woman at least.’

‘Yeah, that would be sex,’ Dean nodded. He swallowed thickly after a lump of some kind had started to form in the back of his throat.

‘I’m not completely clear on the mechanics, however,’ Castiel continued, ‘but I assume it would be … ah …’

‘A butt thing?’

‘That was my presumption. I assume I’m correct?’

‘Yeah, you are,’ Dean nodded. ‘To put it bluntly: one guy shoves his dick in the other guy’s asshole. It doesn’t sound pretty, but hey. It is what it is.’

Castiel nodded very deliberately.

‘Well then, to put it as bluntly as you did: I want to shove my dick in your asshole.’

If Dean had been eating, or drinking, or even mid-breath at the time, he would have choked.  Dean had been under the impression that he probably would have had to talk through it with Cas, maybe have to explain the concept of tops and bottoms and then decide together, who would play the role of what in their intercourse.

It came as a shock that Cas would make such a bold statement, but it worked out rather well, because Dean’s preference was in fact bottoming. He’d topped Crowley in an once, who was pretty verse, when they were with those triplets, and he’d once topped some guy from a bar he’d been playing darts with shortly after he turned twenty one, but he didn’t care for it too much.

‘I bought condoms and lube at Walmart,’ said Dean.

‘Condoms?’

‘You know, protection. I told you about those once, right?’

‘You told me they prevent pregnancy. I don’t see how that’s an issue here.’

‘They also prevent sexually transmitted diseases.’

‘You think I have diseases?’

‘No, no, of course not,’ Dean rushed to clarify, ‘it’s just a precaution. I know you don’t have anything. How could you have? But if you don’t want to use them, it’s fine, I just thought I’d get them. Just in case, you know?’

‘Dean, please, if _you_ want to use them –’

‘Me? No way. Not if we don’t _need_ them. But it’s something you’re supposed to talk about and decide together, so I didn’t want to just assume.’

‘If you don’t believe we need them, then I don’t see a problem in not using them. At the end of the day, you’re more experienced, so it’s up to you.’

Dean felt like something in his chest, his heart probably, grew several sizes. Cas was so damn cute. And always so respectful of Dean’s opinions while still managing to state his own. Dean was glad of the fact that Cas had voiced his thoughts on the matter. Dean was glad that he actually got to _discuss_ something like this with someone for the first time in his life. He had thought he’d hate actually discussing having sex for the first time, but in reality it felt slightly liberating. Sex was nothing to be ashamed about. They could openly discuss it as much as they needed to.

‘Well then,’ Dean decided, ‘I’ll use the condoms as water balloons to launch at Sam if he gets too annoying over Christmas. They’re a good brand. They should hold plenty of water.’

Cas laughed an almost silent laugh, his shoulders shaking and his laugh coming through his nose sounding like odd exhalations while he tried to keep a straight face.

‘Dean, please do not launch condom water balloons at your brother.’

‘Oh come on. Just one?’

‘No, Dean.’

‘ _Please_.’

Castiel sighed.

‘Only if he’s annoying both of us.’

‘Deal.’

They grinned at each other, and instead of shaking hands on that deal, they decided, or rather _Cas_ decided, to kiss on it. Cas, in his enthusiasm, practically _pounced_ on Dean. When they came apart, he looked the perfect mixture of happy and utterly, completely desperate.

‘So _when_ can I fuck you?’

Dean laughed. He wanted to say “right fucking now” in response to Cas using the word fuck, because _fuck_ that was hot no matter what the situation, but he had to hold back.

‘Tonight,’ he responded, ‘the middle of the night. After Sam and Aroura are both asleep. You can fuck me as much as you want.’

Cas smirked, and kissed Dean again.

‘If you want, you could also fuck me. I wouldn’t mind.’

So fucking sweet. And kind. The middle of the night couldn’t come soon enough.

Dean kissed Cas this time.

‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely, holding his face in his hands, ‘but I’m good. Thanks for offering, though, _god_ , you’re so great. You’re really great.’

‘I would prefer if you refrained from saying the word “god” while we’re actually doing it,’ Castiel stated. ‘If you do recall, it’s technically my father’s name.’

‘Noted. I’ll say fuck. And Cas. And fuck, Cas. And Cas, fuck. Anything else?’

‘No. That’s sufficient.’ Cas rubbed his hand around Dean’s face for a moment. He had a thing for touching Dean’s face. ‘Now, please. Let’s get back to that,’ he said, pointing at the TV, ‘before I end up fucking you right _now_.’

‘I’ll hit play,’ Dean promised.

Dean did as he said he would, getting back into his comfortable position against Cas. But this time, he was tucked into Cas’s side, and Cas’s arm was draped over one shoulder. One of Dean’s hands wandered upwards to hang onto Cas’s.

Maybe, just maybe, and _just_ with Cas, the whole hand thing wasn’t completely one-sided after all.


	15. The Angel in Humanity

They drove around, mostly to escape being stuck inside the bunker all day. Sam assumed that Aroura was used to the active life style, and he assumed right. By the end of their outing, Sam was fully caught up on the past almost seventeen years of Aroura’s life.

Aroura went to an Ivy League college: Harvard. That’s where she had moved to. Her grandparents had wanted her to be closer to the university for her final years at school, so they’d taken her away to Cambridge. And then she went to medical school. She’d left to go off to a top notch teaching hospital, where she did her internship and started her residency, but then her grandfather took ill. She moved back to live near her grandparents and everyone feared her grandfather’s death, but he recovered. But by the time he had, Aroura had lost her place in the program and decided, instead, to work with her grandmother as a charity worker.

And as for Aroura’s relationships? She’d had two relationships since Sam. One she’d had in college, but tragically, the person she was with had gotten into what Aroura called “an accident” and didn’t make it. The next she’d had during her intern year at the hospital, but that hadn’t worked out. 

Sam told Aroura about his life, too, but a very revised version of course. Aroura was sympathetic every time Sam was forced to mention a death, which of course he created a false reason for, and of course he left out his own deaths, Dean’s and Cas’s.

They were driving around aimlessly and talking for over two hours, and he entire time Sam was conflicted. He liked hearing about Aroura’s life, how she’d lived since they parted, but he was also deep in thought about the reason he’d searched her out in the first place: in The First Book, Sam and Aroura were the first victim and the first version of The Savior. But Aroura didn’t seem like anything other than ordinary. When Sam was telling her about his life, he slipped in the phrase ‘honestly, we’d need a heavenly savior to stop all the deaths that seem to surround us’ and she hadn’t even flinched.  

Though savior or not, Sam was glad to have Aroura back in his life. If she was The Savior, which he was beginning to doubt, then great. She could stop The Darkness and get that off their hands. But if she wasn’t, then … Sam didn’t know what would happen. He’d see what happened while she was staying and after she left, but he couldn’t predict even a minute ahead. He just knew that he liked her, a lot. He wondered if he’d ever really stopped. There were couples out there who broke up and then forty, fifty years later found each other again right? And just went on, as if the break had never been there?

When they got back to the bunker, it seemed empty and quiet. Aroura excused herself when they got back, saying she’d better go call in and check in with her grandparents. Sam nodded, and headed off in search of Dean and Cas. He assumed they were off somewhere glued to a screen, and when he had confirmed they weren’t in Cas’s bedroom as usual, he smirked to himself as he headed off to the living room and found them with their eyes on the big screen.

‘It looks like you two are enjoying the TV you never wanted,’ Sam commented from the doorway.

Dean jumped up into an upright sitting position like an electric current had been sent through him. Castiel looked towards Sam.

‘Welcome back,’ he greeted, then, knowing Dean’s first question would probably be what he now asked, ‘where’s Aroura?’

‘She went to call her grandparents,’ said Sam. ‘So this is what you guys are doing today?’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look, followed by exchanging shrugs.

‘What else is there to do?’ Dean asked.

‘Walk around aimlessly,’ Castiel answered. ‘Open some doors. Blankly stare at some books, perhaps. Pointlessly drive around outside. Come back in, make water balloons from sexual contraceptives. Repeat.’

Dean snickered. Sam frowned.

‘Do I want to know what that last thing means?’

‘No,’ Castiel advised.

‘Cas is right, though,’ Dean agreed, ‘there’s nothing to do if we’re not hunting.’

‘Come on, there’s plenty to do!’ Sam argued, looking slightly optimistic … but not really. ‘We could play board games. You’re supposed to do that at Christmas, aren’t you?’

‘We own one board game and it’s a piece of crap,’ Dean stated.

‘Because you suck at it,’ Sam retorted.

‘Shut up, Sam,’ Dean replied coolly.

Castiel laughed.

‘Shut up, Cas,’ Dean added.

‘We should buy Monopoly,’ Sam recommended.

‘Or Twister,’ added Cas. ‘Twister is fun, as far as I can recall. It would probably be more fun with more than one player.’

‘Because there’s nothing weird at all about three grown men and one very tiny woman playing Twister,’ Dean commented sarcastically.

‘It would be less weird tomorrow,’ Cas replied. ‘There would be more people. A different selection. There could be teams.’

‘Teams?’ Sam asked curiously.

‘Yes,’ Cas said eagerly. ‘Teams. One team goes first and someone times them and stops the timer when someone falls. Then the next team follows and the same protocol is followed. Whichever team lasted the longest are deemed the winners.’ 

‘I like that idea,’ Sam nodded, then an idea stuck. ‘You guys should go and buy a bunch of board games at Walmart. I bet they have a few.’

‘Sam, the nearest Walmart is over an hour away,’ Dean complained.

‘Someone’s going to Walmart?’ came a perky voice, a new entry to the room. Aroura, it seemed, had finished calling her grandparents.

‘Yeah, these guys,’ said Sam. ‘They’re picking us up some board games. For something to do and for tomorrow, I guess. We have to entertain our guests somehow.’

‘I know something else we could do too,’ Aroura chirped.

Her eyes were bright and her smile even brighter and her perkiness usually would have been the most obnoxiously annoying thing in the world, to Dean especially, but for some reason Dean and Castiel both found themselves starting to like Aroura very much.

‘What could we do?’ Dean asked, surprising himself that he was the one to ask.

‘Well, my grandma just told me that she and my grandpa were watching their cook bake Christmas cookies which gave me a really cool idea: we should bake Christmas cookies!’

‘Yeah!’ Sam agreed instantly, over enthusiastically.

Dean felt an insanely strong urge to counter his ‘yeah!’ with an equally as enthusiastic ‘no!’ but for some reason it wouldn’t come out.

‘That’s … an option,’ he said slowly, looking at the child-like features of a beaming woman looking at all three of them with hope-filled eyes.

‘Perhaps it would be a fun option,’ added Castiel, nodding slowly. ‘Although I can’t be sure. I’ve never even thought of the activity of baking before.’

‘I think we should do it,’ Sam declared, almost as enthusiastically as he’d said is initial ‘yeah!’

‘I think so too,’ agreed Aroura, with a girlish giggle.

‘That settles it then,’ Sam said firmly. ‘Board games and baking ingredients.’

‘Right. Fine.’ Dean switched off the TV. ‘We’ll just go, then.’

‘See you later,’ Cas offered, by way of a goodbye, but Dean was already half way to the door so Cas followed.

They were half way to Dean’s bedroom to grab his wallet and car keys before Dean spoke.

‘Tell me I’m not the only one who can’t seem to say no to those weird puppy-dog eyes.’

‘You’re not the only one,’ Cas promised. ‘And is it just me or after this morning and just now are you beginning to really like her too?’

‘Yeah, I am,’ Dean nodded. ‘She’s cool. She helped with the TV thing, she’s pretty quiet and … she’s weirdly _cute_. Kid-cute. Not just kid-cute, fucking _furry animal_ cute. I should hate it, but …’

‘It shocks me that you don’t,’ Cas agreed. Then stopped walking in his tracks and grabbed Dean’s wrist and looked at him very seriously. ‘You find furry animals cute?’

‘I was a dog once,’ Dean said mildly.  ‘That changed my perspective on the whole animal thing.’

‘You were a _dog_?’

‘Tell you later,’ Dean brushed off. ‘But seriously – what is with that chick? Is it a savior thing or is it just … her? She doesn’t seem like a savior to me.’

‘Maybe we should stop questioning it,’ Castiel suggested. ‘We should just go with it. We like Sam’s girlfriend. And if she turns out to be The Savior, there’s a reason to like her all the more.’

‘She’s _not_ Sam’s girlfriend.’

‘They have intercourse and her lifts her up to drape tinsel over high places and they seem to be rarely out of each other’s company. And he kept touching her back and placing his arm around her shoulders when she was helping with the television this morning.’

‘Cas, they barely know each other.’

‘And now, I bring back my theory about them being soulmates. Sam’s soul does appear to be brighter when she’s in the room.’

Dean started walking again. Castiel walked by his side.

‘It’s just happening too fast to register it properly,’ Dean admitted. ‘When we left, Sam was alone. And now we’re here and some tiny furry animal chick is here, I don’t hate her, and Sam’s happier than I’ve seen him in years.’  

‘Isn’t that a good thing?’ Castiel asked from the doorway of Dean’s room, watching him grab his things from his bedside table.

‘Maybe,’ Dean reasoned, ‘but it’s still a weird thing. And maybe we shouldn’t start calling her his girlfriend just yet until we know how long they’ve been back talking to each other.’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Cas agreed. ‘So, tell me about this dog thing?’

Dean started telling the tale of what he often referred to as his ‘Dog Dean Afternoon’. The tale continued all the way through the bunker and into some of the drive, and by the end of it Castiel was laughing. A lot. And not _with_ Dean, either, because Dean looked pissed.

‘Come on, Cas. It wasn’t _that_ funny.’

‘You were attracted to a female dog, Dean.’

‘I knew I should have left out that part.’

‘You argued with a pigeon in a public place.’

‘That bird was an asshole.’

‘That’s not something you hear every day.’

‘When is something in our lives something you would _ever_ hear every day?’

Castiel had to admit that that was true, but he did continue to poke fun at Dean for the rest of the drive. Dean was both annoyed and extremely amused. He liked the way Cas seemed to be becoming less uptight, more able to poke fun at the small trivial things rather than questioning them and having to have them explained to him. He wonder if Cas noticed these small, subtle changes.

The hour drive seemed to go by quickly, even if they weren’t talking throughout the whole thing. When they pulled up outside Walmart, one of the first things they saw was a woman walking a dog.

‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ Dean warned.

Cas’s expression showed that whatever he wasn’t going to say, he was definitely still thinking it.

Walmart turned out to be board game _heaven._ Dean wanted to just grab Twister and Monopoly and be done with that part, but Cas _insisted_ upon getting almost every game they saw that he liked the look of, starting with something called Pie Face, which Dean had to admit did sound intriguing. They also got Sorry! (giving Dean a rather guilty feeling in his stomach when he briefly flashed back to the time he and Cas had played it and Dean had got angry and pushed the game off the table) and then they got Trouble, Scrabble Twist, Star Wars Bop It (‘Sam is pretty big on Star Wars,’ said Dean, all the while thinking about how hot Princess Leia was in that gold bikini and wondering if Sam even cared about Star Wars at all,) Star Wars Monopoly (in addition to regular Monopoly,) Star Wars Risk, Star Wars Catchphrase, Betrayal at House on the Hill, Ellen’s Heads Up! Party Game, The Game of Things, Apples to Apples, Would You Rather and then Dean stopped the frantic game shopping spree with Cards Against Humanity.

Then it was time to move onto the baking stuff. They were pretty clueless on this part, so they just threw random things into the cart, and a lot of it to avoid missing anything. Different types of flour. Yeast. Cake mixes. Cookie mixes. A whole load of eggs. Sugar. Butter. Weird things in cans and in tiny bottles, sprinkly stuff, things in tubes, icing, icing sugar, whipped cream, cookie cutters baking trays, cupcake trays, basically anything that looked like it could be remotely used in the process of baking be it ingredient or utensil.

The abundance of games cost an ungodly amount. Luckily, they still had a lot of credit cards. They’d probably spent more in these past few days than they’d spent in the past year, but it hardly mattered.

‘You know, personally, I’m looking forward to Twister the most,’ Dean said suggestively once they were safely back in the car. ‘As long as we’re on the same team.’

‘I seem to have been the one to have made up the team rules, so I can assure you that if I have my way we will be on the same team,’ Cas promised. Dean was impressed that Cas had understood what Dean was suggesting. Or at least Dean hoped so.

‘You realize I’m talking about us being in a lot of close together weird positions, right?’

‘I assumed it was either because of that or because we seem to work extremely well together. Either way, I want to be on your team.’

‘Better me than Sam,’ Dean joked, ‘because if you’re on his team and he falls, you’re crushed.’

‘I highly doubt Sam will be the one to fall in whatever team he’s on,’ Cas disagreed, ‘because of his long legs. They give him an advantage.’

‘True,’ Dean said with a nod. ‘But Twister aside – I’m gonna beat all of you at Monopoly. Just wait and see.’

‘Dean, please,’ Cas ridiculed, ‘I’ve never played Monopoly before yet it’s clear that I will win. Or anyone other than you will win. Because you’re very bad at games.’

Dean scowled.

‘You just wait and see,’ he grumbled. ‘Wait. And. See.’

Cas looked at Dean fondly as Dean stared ahead with his eyes on the road. He continued to look at him in this way, long after they’d stopped talking and simply sat in calm near-silence as the radio croaked here and there and bleated out some crappy, generic pop music neither one of them was listening to as they hadn’t put in any of Dean’s tapes.

Dean noticed Cas staring after a while and frowned at him.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ Cas replied simply with an almost-bored expression.

Dean raised his eyebrows but looked away. Cas’s gaze held until they got back to the bunker and he finally tore his eyes away as they brought the bags of stuff inside, first going to the kitchen to drop off the baking stuff. They weren’t exactly sure what to do with it so they just left the stuff in the bags on the table, apart from things that had come from the fridge, which of course they placed in the fridge.

They headed off to the living room in pursuit of Sam and Aroura, but they found it empty, the TV off, and most peculiarly, the book shelf completely empty. There was a note on the top shelf: _Stack games here._

‘But where are all the books?’ Castiel asked, staring at the empty shelves with a distasteful look.

‘Library?’ Dean suggested. ‘Sam said that’s where he wane to put them, right?’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Cas agreed, reaching into one of the bags the games were in and starting to unpack them. ‘What system are we going to use to organize these?’

‘Come again?’ Dean asked.

‘Alphabetical, color schemed, the order in which we want to play them …?’

‘Just shoving them on the shelves randomly is fine.’

‘Dean, we need a system.

‘Okay, fine. Alphabetically then.’

Castiel, looking satisfied, continued unloading the games. Dean helped him and once they were all unpacked, Cas arranged them on the shelves in alphabetical order while Dean watched, sitting on the couch and seeing that Cas seemed dissatisfied with the layout once he was done.

‘This doesn’t look right,’ Cas muttered. ‘I’m redoing this. Biggest to smallest. You can help with this one.’

Dean stood up, wondering why Cas was so fussy about it, but he didn’t say anything as he helped remove the games from the shelves and then replace them there in descending order. Now, Cas looked happy.

‘What’s with all the fuss about them anyway?’ Dean asked when done.

‘They should look aesthetically pleasing. The books looked pleasant there, and so the games should too.’

‘Of course they should,’ said Dean, although he didn’t really care either way. ‘Let’s just go look for the other two.’

Castiel nodded and thy grabbed the now-empty bags to discard them as they sought out the odd pair.

They were in the library, placing the books from the now game-filled shelf into the empty spaces on the shelves surrounding them.

‘Did you stack the shelves?’ Sam asked as soon as he saw them.

‘Yeah,’ said Dean.

Sam looked at Cas.

‘Alphabetical or in order of size?’

‘Descending order,’ Castiel replied.

Dean looked at the two of them with a look that was almost like disgust.

‘You two are freaks,’ he decided, wandering over to the small pile of books still left unshelved and starting to shove them into empty slots at random. ‘What’s next, trying to organize all the books by genre and word count? I’m _kidding_ ,’ Dean added quickly at the end, seeing Sam and Cas look at each other with raised eyebrows.

‘I organize my books at home by author, then organize those into sub-categories with genre by specific author, and then organize those by word count,’ Aroura offered, trying to make Sam and Cas seem less insane to Dean.

‘If anyone tries that here, I’m moving out,’ Dean declared.

‘Good,’ said Sam.

The offense on Dean’s face was priceless.

Aroura, of course, hadn’t forgotten her baking idea and once the books were all shelved it was straight to the kitchen with two screenshotted recipes from the internet. It turned out that Aroura was incredibly competitive and, like Cas’s Twister teams idea, came up with a team idea for this: pair up and bake off.

Dean had been very against the idea in the beginning. He didn’t _bake_. Christmas he could take, movies he could take, shopping he could take, even hanging around while other people baked he could handle, but _he_ did not bake.

And then Aroura had started talking about how two of them would bake cookies and two would bake cupcakes and then she’d mentioned something along the lines of ‘you workaholics need to learn now to have _fun_ ’ and something inside Dean clicked and yeah, he wasn’t happy about this, he didn’t have time for _fun_ , but he would be damned before Sam and Aroura’s cupcakes beat his and Cas’s cookies.

By the time he got into the competition mindset, Dean’s only concern was that him and Cas baking together might seem gay. But it couldn’t seem _that_ gay since it was Aroura who formed the pairs, and since it was obvious Sam and Aroura would be working together the only option was for Dean and Cas to team up.

Baking was easier than it seemed. The recipe was simple to follow and they had more than enough ingredients, but it was hard for Dean not to throw up into his and Cas’s mixing bowl while watching Sam stand behind Aroura with his hand over hers on the whisk as they whisked together. Cas, however, seemed to find it cute and kept glancing at them with the ghost of a smile.

Dean raised an eyebrow when Cas looked back at him and he took that as a ‘ _really_?’ and they proceeded to have a non-verbal conversation. Cas shrugged, causing Dean to frown at him. Castiel tilted his head to the side, reaching for the rolling pin beside Dean’s hand. Their hands brushed unnoticeably, barely at all really, like a feather grazing against a wall as it floated from the ceiling to the floor, and he began to coat the pin in flower roll out the cookie dough Dean had just dumped out of the bowl. He glanced at Sam and Aroura again, then at Dean, Dean’s hands, then down at his own on the rolling pin.

Dean swallowed nervously. He got was Cas was saying.

_If that was us …_

Okay, maybe then it wouldn’t seem as … ick. Being around it was still completely ick, but being the ones actually _doing_ it … yeah. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. But _only_ if it was with him and Cas.

It was harder than it looked to use the cookie cutters and get smooth edges, then get the raw cookies from the middle of the dough to the baking tray without messing them up. It looked easier to just dump the spongey cupcake stuff into the cupcake tray. Sam and Aroura had it easy.

The competition wasn’t over when the goods were baked. Next, they had to decorate them with all the decoration crap Dean and Cas had bought. Dean and Cas couldn’t see what Sam and Aroura were doing to their cupcakes, but they sure as hell made their own cookies look great, using tubes of squirty icing to make the cookies look like what they were shaped like, with a few more fun features. For example, the Rudolf cookie ended up wearing bright blue and pink striped pants and had golden stipes all over his antlers, meanwhile Santa was wearing a red bikini.

And when the cupcakes were finally revealed, they were nothing compared to the cookies. They were simple things, six with faces and the other six with barely legible holiday messages on them.

Taste wise, however, it was hard to pick between them. Dean and Castiel said the cookies were better, Sam and Aroura insisted the cupcakes were the best, and it ended in the two pairs storming off in opposite directions out of the kitchen. Dean and Cas didn’t know what Sam and Aroura were up to, off doing something disgustingly cutsey probably, but the two of them headed back to the living room to continue their last Grey’s episode where they left off, matching cups of coffee and eleven out of twelve cookies, plus the remainder of the shared cupcake, on a plate between them.

It was almost six in the evening, and technically Christmas cookies was dinner. The day had gone by rapidly, it was only just now slowing, and both Dean and Cas, though not speaking of it or even looking at each other, both had their minds on the night ahead of them. There were hours to go yet, but as evening elapsed it meant night was approaching, and night approaching meant one specific thing, which Dean realized very strongly when his and Cas’s fingers met when they reached for the last cookie.

They shared it. It was just as Dean was swallowing the bottom of a snowman that Sam and Aroura arrived and sat with them, casually not speaking, until the end of the episode they were watching. It wasn’t until the next episode was about to play that Sam spoke.

‘So, Monopoly?’

Dean would much rather have continued watching Grey’s, but instead of asking Cas if he wanted to head back to Cas’s room to watch and leave Sam and Aroura alone to play, he shrugged and gave an apathetic ‘why not?’

Dean picked the car. Of course. Cas went straight for the dog without even giving anyone else a chance. Sam was the shoe, and lastly, Aroura was the ship. Then with a quick and easy explanation of the rules for Cas, they were off.

Despite Sam and Dean only having played this a handful of times and only during their years at school when one lucky kid got the game at Christmas and brought it to school to play at lunch, they were good players. There seemed to be one kid per grade per year, honestly. And despite Cas having never played it before, he was good too, with his logical brain and fast calculations. And Aroura, well, she’d been playing it her whole life and was quite the expert.

It wasn’t shocking, with four good players, that the game lasted almost three hours with all four players playing. Sam and Amara were incredibly annoying players and somewhere around the three hour mark, Aroura didn’t have enough money to pay Sam when she landed on his hotel, so he decided she could ‘owe’ him.

‘That’s not how the game works!’ Dean protested.

‘It’s my hotel,’ Sam retorted. ‘She can work it off. Or pay up when she’s got the money.’

‘But that’s _not how it works_.’

‘Dean, it’s just a _game._ ’

‘And there are rules to follow, Sam!’

‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘No, he’s right,’ Aroura reasoned. ‘There’s rules. I can’t owe you.’

So, with Aroura now having given all of her money to Sam, she was out, and the three men played on. They were in it to win it.

Half an hour later, Sam landed on one of Cas’s properties and had to fork over most of his money. Then, on his next turn, he had to pay taxes and lost the rest.

And then there were two.  

The game seemed to intensify once it was down to Dean and Cas. They were seated right across from each other; Dean on the couch, Cas on his knees on the floor, the game on the coffee table between them. Their eyes bore into each other and every movement seemed violent and sharp as they played their way, around and around the board, for an hour.

Sam and Aroura were bored half an hour into this epic battle, Sam lounging in an arm chair and Aroura perked on the arm as they talked quietly in between watching Dean use yet another get out of jail free card, watching Cas get another chance card, watching both of them fork over their money, back and forth and back and forth as they landed on each others’ properties.

It was landing on two of Cas’s hotels in a row that got Dean in the end, leaving Cas the triumphant winner of his first ever game and leaving Dean loudly swearing, pointing at Cas and accusing him of all kinds of cheats and schemes, in the end declaring that the whole thing had been rigged as Cas beamed, looking incredibly proud of himself, but flickered between innocent beaming and smug smirking when it was only Dean that was watching him. 

Dean hadn’t even stopped grumbling when Sam and Aroura excused themselves to go to bed. It was 11pm. Once they’d left, Dean sat back down after having violently stood up when he lost in a huff and started tossing the pieces of the game back into the box.

‘I let you win,’ Dean said lamely.

‘I know,’ said Cas. ‘You can control the dice. You made them land in my favor. You would never have lost if it weren’t for how much you wanted me to win since it was my first time.’

‘Exactly.’

They continued clearing up the game in silence. Once the box was safely back on the shelf where Dean could no longer violently toss the pieces as he packed them up, Castiel turned towards him with a burning look.

‘Now?’ he asked.

Dean shook his head.

‘We should give them a while. They’ve probably got … stuff to do. And we need to make sure they’ve both been asleep a _while_. We can’t risk them hearing.’

‘So … what do we do?’

‘Two episodes of Grey’s?’

‘Are you sure you won’t be too tired after that?’

‘Well if I am, there’s one sure way to wake me up.’

Castiel laughed quietly, nodding his head.

‘Okay. Switch on the television. I’ll go … prepare something to eat.’

‘Put on a frozen pizza,’ Dean suggested. ‘I’m starved. Instructions are on the box.’

‘Would you like me to bring something for while we wait for the pizza?’ Castiel asked. ‘Chips? Chocolates? Beer?’

‘Bring the chips and the chocolates,’ Dean said with a nod, ‘but hold the beer. I don’t even wanna be the tiniest bit tipsy tonight.’

The smile that accompanied Cas’s final nod before he slipped out the door was tender. Even though Cas couldn’t see him now, the corners of Dean’s own lips raised in response.

Cas was back in no time with an alarm on his phone set to go off in twenty minutes rather than using the oven timer since they weren’t even in the kitchen. He had a bag of Doritos and a tray of chocolates with him, as well as his own coffee and some soda for Dean. Since they were sure Sam and Aroura wouldn’t be making any appearances, they sat close together. Thighs touching close together. They balanced the tray of chocolates on their touching thighs, the pizza plate too, and Dean snaked one hand around Cas’s lower back. Neither of them mentioned it.

By the time the end of the two episodes rolled around, Dean was oddly alert, even though he should have been sleepy. It was adrenaline, probably.  Or nerves. But it couldn’t be nerves, because Dean obviously wasn’t nervous, because it wasn’t like he hadn’t done this before. It wasn’t even like he hadn’t done this before with Cas. Well, he hadn’t done what they were about to do exactly with Cas, but they’d done dick stuff. Why would butt stuff be any different?

Dean spent ten minutes in the bathroom after they’d finally decided to head to Cas’s bedroom, which was farther away from Sam’s than Dean’s was and had a television, which they were going to leave on at a low volume during the whole thing, and so Cas could watch Netflix with earphones after Dean had fallen asleep. That was, if he could concentrate on it after what he and Dean were going to do. If Dean ever planned to get out of the bathroom, that was.

In the bathroom, after a quick trip to retrieve something from his own bedroom, Dean brushed his teeth. He put on more deodorant, he adjusted his hair, he considered shaving since there was more stubble than usual that had come on throughout the day, but then Cas would probably notice he’d shaved, maybe, possibly, probably not, but he didn’t want to risk it. Cas was always extremely observant. He did shave one part of himself, however, to allow for a smooth passage and he got a very bad head rush while bending over attempting to rid his asshole of stray hairs without a mirror low enough to see himself in.

The remainder of the time was spent just … over thinking. Dean had never been nervous about sex in his life. Not since is first time with a woman and with a man respectively. But besides those times, it came easy. Naturally. With no stupid worries about him doing something wrong, because there was nothing he could ever do wrong because this was one of the things he was an expert at.

He just didn’t want to make this seem rushed. Or too prolonged. Or whatever else.

He needed this to be good for Cas more than for himself.

It probably wasn’t good to leave Cas waiting, so Dean headed to Cas’s room and shut the door behind him, kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks and looked at Cas.

‘Light on or off?’ he asked.

‘On,’ Cas requested. He was sitting in the center of the bed, fully clothed, looking as nervous as Dean felt. ‘I want to … to be able to see you.’

Dean nodded slowly and headed to the bed, climbing on next to Cas. He put what he’d brought from his own bedroom onto the bedside table: the lube.

Slowly, very slowly, he reached out to gently touch Cas’s arm.

And then the feisty little angel was in his lap, his nerves gone, their lips glued together, Cas’s hand caressing his neck and Dean was a mixture of stunned and very, _very_ aroused.

Things didn’t stay as rapid as Cas’s initial first move. Cas’s initial haste was just to get all of the pent up need out of his system and slowed into softer, deeper more passionate kisses. Which turned into laughter filled ones, as Cas branched out and started kissing Dean rapidly all over his face, again and again and again, each side of his nose, each cheek top and bottom, every inch of his jawline, all over his forehead, his nose tip, the space between his nose and lips, his chin, repeating it before he got to his lips again.

Cas was enthusiastic, less timid than their last encounter, and had very much taken the thing of being able to do whatever he wanted to Dean to heart.

They didn’t go as slowly as Dean assumed they would have, and Dean found himself comparing Cas’s movements to those of an excited puppy exploring something for the first time. Cas did all but lick Dean’s face, but his lips were everywhere from his temples to his earlobes to right on his Adam’s apple. And that was _before_ clothes started to come off, specifically Dean’s. Cas was still fully clothed bar his shoes and socks.

Once Dean’s t-shirt and plaid shirt were off, it was a whole other story. It was like Cas wanted to feel Dean’s entire body on his face. Cas went over everything, including Dean’s arms, shoulders to elbows. Cas put his hand where his handprint used to be on Dean’s shoulder as he worked his way onto Dean’s chest, experimentally placing barley-there kisses in circles around his nipples and then on the hardened tips, making Dean shiver.

When Cas finally got to Dean’s stomach, placing his hands on Dean’s hips, he kissed that the most, all over, hard, pressing his face into the skin. The feel of Cas’s lips and his scratchy face there was something, shockingly, Dean had never experienced before and looking down at Cas, the adorable angel, looking so happy and so enthusiastic about it, gave him odd feelings in his chest he could only describe as his affection growing.

Cas popped up after the final kiss he pressed to Dean’s stomach and simply stated, ‘sorry.’ He no longer seemed nervous in the slightest.

‘For what?’ Dean asked.

‘I know that wasn’t particularly … sexy,’ Cas stated, looking slightly shy now. ‘I just wanted to get to appreciate you first. Because you’re beautiful.’

Dean looked down, smiling a small smile before looking up at Cas.

‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely.

‘Let’s have sex now,’ Cas stated.

Dean laughed, but obliged, and grabbed the ends of Cas’s skull-covered sweater and pulled upwards. Like the last time, Cas raised his arms as the shirt was pulled over his head, but more confidently this time. Because this time, he knew he could do whatever he wanted.

Cas had no shirt on under the sweater. Dean’s hands quickly found the soft skin of Cas’s torso, kneading it in circles with his thumbs, gripping Cas tight with his fingers while Cas walked on his knees either side of Dean to kneel closer to his face, allowing Dean to lean in and kiss the hot skin, inhaling Cas’s scent which always just smelled of Cas, never tainted by anything.

Last time Dean hadn’t gone anywhere near Cas’s nipples, but since this time Cas had kissed his, Dean applied pressure on Cas’s back to make Cas lean forward so Dean could lightly suck the sensitive skin around the area followed by placing his mouth over the nipple itself and running his tongue back and forth over it, sucking on it briefly then moving on to give the same treatment to the other one.

Dean’s eyes were closed when he gave Cas this treatment but he could feel Cas’s grip on his arms tighten. That feeling, just the simple squeeze that showed he was giving Cas pleasure, made Dean go slightly light headed.

When Dean switched to planting kisses down Cas’s chest, Cas’s hands started to wander south, starting to attack Dean’s pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them. When they got down far enough, Dean was able to kick them off, not caring where they landed. Dean leaned back and slowly opened the button at the top of Cas’s jeans, followed by dragging the zip down annoying slowly. He pushed them down the still-kneeling Cas’s thighs revealing underwear they’d bought at Hot Topic on their shopping trip. In actual fact they were R2-D2 boxer briefs, but Cas didn’t know that when he got them. He just picked those ones because they looked cool.

When Dean got Cas’s jeans to his knees, Cas got them off the rest of the way. Looking up at Cas hovering above him, Dean’s insides warmed. This is what it was like to not just be turned on by someone, but to feel affection for them while he was.

‘You’re beautiful too,’ he stated.

Cas grinned, but didn’t say anything. He bent as if to kiss Dean, but only kissed his nose tip, before he straightened up again and put all of his attention onto the final layer of clothing.

Dean’s boner was obvious through the tented fabric of his underwear. Cas placed his hand over it and squeezed through the fabric, not realizing the friction it caused would make Dean slam his head back against the wall and then swear because that fucking hurt.

‘Are you okay?’ Cas asked worriedly.

‘Maybe I should put my head on the pillows,’ Dean suggested.

Castiel nodded and briefly climbed off of Dean to allow him to slide down into a laying position. Cas climbed right back on and wasted no time in ridding Dean of his underwear leaving Dean completely naked beneath him. That was new. Yeah, Cas had helped get Dean off, he’d touched his dick before, he’d done all of that, but he had never seen Dean completely one hundred percent naked.

Cas stared Dean up and down, taking in as many details as he could, every dip, every contour, every joint, every last hair. And then, remembering what Dean had done to him last time, he licked Dean’s dick from base to head, just once. Dean’s back arched slightly, but Castiel did not repeat the action. He wanted to do what he’d wanted to do for a long time now.

Castiel slowly removed his own underwear and tossed it away from him. Dean, knowing it was time, raised up his knees, exposing himself thoroughly to the coolish air. He felt, almost, a little self-conscious laying here, completely passive now, under the angel who had an almost frightening intensity burning in his eyes.

Cas asked his first question of the encounter, which was actually more of a presumption.

‘Fingers first?’ he assumed.

Dean nodded.

Cas grabbed the lube, from the bedside table and coated his fingers. He climbed off of Dean, then off of the bed, then back on again, only this time he was between Dean’s legs, able to see something he never expected to see laid out before him.

Cas gently prodded Dean’s hole with one slick finger. He didn’t want to hurt Dean and didn’t know what would and he became aware of the fact that he seemed to be in control, leading what was going on now. Good.

After some gentle probing, Cas slipped the tip of his index finger into Dean.

It was, quite possibly, one of the weirdest places his finger had ever been. Dean was tight around him and the inside of the anal canal was slightly bumpy, or some other weird texture. He felt around for a while, then sank it in some more. It felt even weirder the farther in he went. He wiggled his finger slightly, noting the places that seemed to make Dean’s breathing hitch.

And then he pulled the finger out again.

And then he put it back in again.

He got the hang of it soon enough, going slowly, then increasing in speed. He knew he wouldn’t just replace one thin finger with his dick straight away. It would probably hurt; this was a very small opening and very tight inside, but at least Dean seemed to be enjoying what Cas was doing, and even more so when Cas decided to add a second finger, opening and closing the two fingers slightly, like scissors, making room. He hoped what he was doing didn’t seem completely, ridiculously stupid, but it seemed like the natural thing to do to … stretch things.

Three fingers seemed like it was enough. Four and he may as well just shove his whole hand in there.

Once he was sure Dean was used to three fingers sliding in and out of him, Cas removed them and his hand hovered over the lube again. Dean nodded. Cas slicked up his dick with it this time and then shuffled closer, so his dick lined up with the hole and he hovered over Dean, his hands either side of him. They locked eyes.

‘Go,’ said Dean.

Cas went.

Cas had briefly forgotten, with the whole finger thing, that both he and Dean would receive pleasure from this action. His fingers didn’t get anything out of being inside Dean, but his dick certainly did as he sank in as far as he could, waited a moment, and pulled out leaving only the tip inside. This part, he had done before. Even if it had been with a woman. Who turned out to be a reaper.

It was hard for the two of them not to make noise. Cas kept his mouth jammed shut, inhaling and exhaling through his nose and tight lips, his breathing much louder than usual, some noises coming from the back of his throat but remaining low and quiet barely escaping through clenched teeth. Dean’s mouth was the opposite, open, his breathing also too loud, his noises clearer than Cas’s, his whispered words obvious.

Dean said ‘fuck’ a lot. With every utterance, Cas sped up. Dean was bucking his hips in rhythm with Cas’s and Cas registered when Dean grabbed the lube and put some in the palm of his hand so while he was being fucked he could fuck into his own hand to get off that way too.

Dean was pretty sure that the only thing touching the bed was his feet, his ass, his shoulders and one arm, fingers knotted in the duvet cover, which left that position soon enough to grab onto Cas’s ass, digging his nails in and hoping it didn’t hurt. If Dean had the option, he probably would have been screaming. Screaming Cas’s name, over and over again, but it had to come out in husky quiet moans and in whispers and in exhalations as he felt the pressure building.

He wasn’t sure what it was that put him over the edge the most. Cas’s thrusts or his own frantic jerking. Probably Cas. Mostly Cas. Definitely Cas. The fullness, the friction, the times Cas hit his prostate …

As Dean came, he whispered something he hadn’t said out loud in years.

‘ _Castiel_.’

Hearing Dean’s filthy whisper of his name, his full name, sent Cas so far over the edge it was like he was flying and then falling, but controlled falling, as his entire body spasmed, his spine felt like it was about to break and he fell forward, his face colliding with Dean’s chest, Dean’s legs falling with a thump either side of him.

It was a while before Cas recovered enough to roll over and collapse next to Dean. It was even longer before Dean managed to turn his head to look at Cas and say words he hadn’t said since the night he said them the first time.

‘I love you.’

Their hands found each other and linked up.

‘I know,’ said Cas. Then, ‘but you’re only saying that because I just fucked you.’

Dean laughed weakly.

‘Oh, yeah. You’re totally right.’ He attempted sitting up, and groaned. ‘Can I borrow a shirt and pajama pants?’

‘Yeah,’ said Cas, nodding. ‘Go ahead.’

Dean making his way over to the closet was a slow process, but he eventually got over there and pulled out the first pajama pants he found and a random shirt. They were both Supernatural themed. Dean didn’t care as he pulled them on and headed for the door.

By the time Dean had returned, Cas had pulled on some pajama bottoms but didn’t bother with a top or underwear and he had slipped under the covers. Dean pulled off his shirt and slipped under with him. He’d turned the light off as he entered the room.

‘Thank you,’ said Dean.

‘You’re welcome,’ Cas replied sincerely. ‘And thank _you_.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Dean brushed off.

Cas moved closer to Dean and tucked his head under Dean’s chin. Dean wrapped his arms around him.

‘Are you tired?’ Castiel asked quietly.

‘Fuck, yes,’ Dean groaned.

‘You should sleep,’ Cas urged, feeling Dean nod slightly against his head. ‘And Dean?’

‘Mmm?’

‘I love you too.’

Dean’s hold on Cas tightened. Cas closed his eyes and listened to Dean’s breathing and to Dean’s heartbeat. He could tell when Dean fell asleep, and then he felt some odd heavy feeling start to wash over him, putting pressure on his eyes, on his mind, on his body …

He knew the feeling. He hadn’t had it in years, but he recognized it. Yet it couldn’t be …

All Cas knew was that one minute, he was curled up in Dean’s strong arms, and then the next he felt groggy and absolutely fucking stunned at the same time.


	16. For My Boyfriend Here

The guests arrived around noon. Two smiley sheriffs, and two teenage girls holding hands and wearing matching Christmas sweaters. Jody and Donna hugged Sam when he opened the door to them. Claire said a causal ‘hey’ and Alex nodded her greeting with a lazy smile.

‘This must be Aroura,’ said Jody, reaching out to shake the hand of the woman she’d already heard about from Sam on the phone.

‘This is her,’ Sam confirmed, giving the very quiet Aroura a nudge. She was shy again, like her first night here, but she shook Jody’s outstretched hand politely.

‘Oh wow, you’re real pretty,’ Donna commented, smiling broadly at Aroura.

‘Thank you,’ Aroura said quietly.

‘Let me show you guys your rooms,’ Sam offered, stepping back to allow the four to enter. He locked the door behind them and gestured for them to follow him.

They seemed to be just as in awe of the bunker as Aroura had been, looking around it as they walked through. As they walked, Sam pointed out different rooms.

‘So where’s that brother of yours?’ Jody asked.

‘And Castiel,’ Claire added.

‘Probably in their rooms,’ Sam shrugged. ‘They haven’t been up yet. Dean’s probably asleep and Cas is probably lost in the show he’s watching on Netflix – I was about to go looking for them, actually.’

‘Dean’s probably still sulking over losing at Monopoly last night,’ Aroura joked, already less shy.

‘Probably,’ Sam agreed.

‘We could go get them,’ Alex volunteered herself and Claire. ‘I want to meet the angel. I mean, uh, the angelic guy,’ she corrected herself quickly, remembering Aroura.

‘Don’t we all,’ said Jody.

‘Yeah, okay. That’d be a good wake up call for them,’ said Sam, with an amused nod. ‘And if they don’t answer their doors, walk in and throw something at them. Specifically Dean. If Cas doesn’t answer it’s probably because he’s got headphones in, so you can just head in and tell him it’s day. He tends to lose track of time at night.’

They were at the bedrooms now, and Sam pointed out four empty ones, small but decent like most of the bedrooms in the place. All four guests headed into theirs to drop off their stuff and emerged again soon enough, closing the doors behind them, giving their thanks.

‘So, do you guys want coffee? Or tea?’ Sam offered. ‘We’ve got a lot of options.’

‘Coffee would be great,’ Donna said with enthusiasm, Jody nodding along with her.

‘We’ll catch up,’ said Claire. ‘Which rooms are we barging into?’

Sam pointed them out.

‘Meet us in the kitchen,’ he told them, having already pointed it out on the way. ‘Try not to get lost.’

‘Call if you do,’ Jody warned.

The girls stayed behind while the other four others walked away. They headed towards Dean’s door.

‘So is he really as grumpy as you said he was?’ Alex asked. ‘I don’t remember him that well.’

‘The perfect grumpy old man,’ Claire confirmed. ‘But he’s cool. He’s probably nicer now. I think there was some mark on his arm or something that was making him extra angry … but it’s gone now. At least that’s what Jody says.’

‘And the angel?’

‘Looks like the Grumpy Cat he got me sometimes. Goofy. Kinda squishy. Wears a trenchcoat. He’s cool too.’

Alex nodded and knocked on Dean’s door. The duo wondered exactly what Dean might think when he opened the door to find two teenage girls standing there. The two of them had talked together about Sam, Dean and Cas a lot since they’d heard Donna had met up with Sam and Dean again, even more so when they got the invite to come over for Christmas. Claire had talked them up pretty well, giving funny descriptions of all of her encounters with the three of them since Alex’s time around the brothers hadn’t been too great.

There was no answer, so Alex knocked again. Still nothing. The girls looked at each other. Shrugging, Claire turned the handle and entered the room, fully prepared to find something to throw at a sleeping or sulking or whatever Dean, but the room was completely empty.

‘Huh,’ said Alex, raising her eyebrows and looking around before they left and closed the door behind them. ‘Looks like Sam was wrong. And _speaking_ of Sam …’

‘I didn’t exaggerate, right?’

‘He’s _huge_.’

‘Right? He’s huge but at the same time he’s like one of those giant friendly dogs that don’t seem to know their own size.’

‘Isn’t he the one who taught you how to commit credit card fraud?’

‘Yeah. So thank _him_ for your Christmas present and don’t mention it to Jody or Donna.’

Alex laughed as they reached the second door Sam had pointed out and knocked. Again, they got no answer.

‘Maybe they went out and Sam didn’t notice?’ Alex suggested.

Claire pressed her ear to the door.

‘I hear something. Like the TV or something.’

‘Headphones, then?’ Alex presumed.

Shrugging, Claire opened the door, not knowing exactly why Cas would leave the TV on while watching or listening to something else on another device, but the guy was weird. Whatever.

There was definitely someone in here. It was dark, but the TV and the open door shed some light on the dark figure in the bed. Did angels _sleep_?

‘Castiel?’ Claire asked clearly yet cautiously from just inside the doorway.

The sound of Cas’s name woke him. He felt groggy and confused; had he just been …? No, he couldn’t have been. The TV was still on and he registered the fact that they hadn’t switched it off last night. Cas’s movement woke Dean, who blinked up at Cas.

‘Morning,’ he greeted, rolling onto his back.

And then Dean saw the two teenage girls with their eyes wide open and panic stuck him. _Fuck_.

Cas yanked the covers up over Dean’s head.

‘Claire,’ he stated, staring at them, all traces of grogginess and worrying about the fact that he may have just been sleeping gone. ‘And … Alex, I presume.’

‘Hey, Castiel,’ Claire greeted, an awkward smile accompanying. ‘Dean,’ she added.

‘Dean’s not here,’ Cas said quickly.

‘Then who’s _that_?’ asked Alex, pointing at the covers over Dean.

‘There’s no one there,’ Cas stated.

Alex shook her head, laughing, and then turned towards Claire with a triumphant grin.

‘I told you so.’

Dean pushed the duvet off of his head and sat up.

‘You told her what, exactly?’ he asked, folding his arms disapprovingly.

‘That you two are doing it,’ Alex replied boldly. ‘It’s obvious from the way she described how you talk to each other.’

‘That’s completely ridiculous,’ Castiel told Alex frankly. ‘Dean and I were never “doing it” during the time of any interactions witnessed by Claire. Or – I mean – we’ve _never_ –’

‘Just don’t tell anyone,’ Dean groaned, his hand over his face.

‘Our lips are sealed,’ Claire promised. ‘Everyone’s waiting for you in the kitchen. We’ll leave now.’

Claire slipped out of the door, holding onto Alex’s hand, but Alex wasn’t moving. She stayed surveying them for a moment.

‘Nice tattoo,’ she told Dean.

‘Thanks,’ said Dean.

Another moment. She tilted her head to the side, letting her yes flick back and forth between the two of them before asking a slow question.

‘So … who tops?’

‘Come on,’ Claire insisted, yanking Alex’s arm hard so that she was forced out of the room, giggling, and the door was closed behind them.

Cas fell back against his pillows with a groan.

‘Fuck,’ Dean said for him.

‘So much for no one knowing,’ said Cas, in the same tone of voice.

Dean rolled over onto his stomach and lay face down on the pillows for a moment before turning his head to look at Cas.

‘Could be worse,’ he mumbled. ‘Could’ve been Sam.’

‘True,’ Cas reasoned. He rolled over and grabbed his phone from the bedside table to check the time, then sat bolt upright. ‘Dean, it’s almost twelve thirty.’

‘Shit, seriously?’ Dean asked, rising up now and sitting back on his heels. When that position hurt, he swore and changed it. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

‘I – I didn’t know.’

‘I need to get dressed,’ Dean groaned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and walking over to switch the light on. Once he’d done that, he started to dress in yesterday’s clothes. ‘Fuck. _Fuck_. What’s our excuse?’

‘You slept in and I was distracted with Netflix?’ Cas suggested, copying Dean except diving into his closet for fresh clothes instead of putting yesterday’s back on.

‘Yeah, sounds good,’ Dean agreed, already fully dressed and now tying his shoes. He got to his feet as Cas pulled on jeans. ‘I’ll hit the bathroom then meet you in the kitchen. Yeah?’

Castiel nodded. Dean quickly walked towards him and kissed him quick and hard and a little sloppy and headed straight for and out of the door. Once Cas was dressed too, he switched off the TV and gave his bed one last look. He had no memory of the night after he’d closed his eyes and felt that peculiar feeling, and just now he’d something that felt a lot like waking up …

He was being ridiculous, of course. He’d simply spent his night comfortable, with his eyes closed and his mind thought free.

Cas slid into the kitchen and stood just inside the door unnoticed. Sam and Aroura were seated across from Jody and Donna and Claire and Alex stood nearby; there was only room for four to sit. Claire was the first to notice Cas had entered the room and smiled at him. Alex noticed Claire looking, and smirked. Cas felt his face flush and he looked away.

‘Hey, Cas,’ said Sam, when Sam finally noticed Cas had entered. ‘Rough night?’

‘I watched thirteen episodes of Grey’s Anatomy,’ Cas lied quickly, working out how many episodes he would have been able to watch between 11pm and 12pm.

‘With headphones,’ Claire added.

‘With headphones,’ Cas agreed. ‘I didn’t hear the girls knocking.’

‘Where’s your trench coat?’ Alex asked, frowning suddenly. ‘Claire said you always wear a trench coat.’

‘Oh yeah, I heard that too,’ Jody added.

‘Me too,’ said Donna.

‘Yeah, well, Cas is a regular old fashion guru now,’ was the sentence that announced Dean’s arrival, followed by a friendly slap on Cas’s shoulder.

‘Yes,’ Cas nodded, seeming a little proud. ‘I thought it was time I hung up the suit and the tie and the coat and saved them for more formal situations.’

‘I like your hoodie,’ Claire commented. It was the blue tie dye one.

‘Thank you,’ Cas replied sincerely.

‘I like your _eyes_ ,’ Donna stressed. She was looking at Cas with an intensity like she couldn’t really believe what she was seeing. ‘You didn’t exaggerate at all, did ya Dean?’

Dean recalled getting a little too detailed when describing Cas to Donna on their second meeting when Jody was giving Donna the ‘talk’ and she had asked what other kind of creatures existed. Dean had mentioned angels, Donna had refused to believe him, Sam had mentioned Cas and then Dean had gone into a description he probably should have just left at ‘carries an angel blade, wears a trench coat, literally from heaven.’

‘Believe me, Dean never exaggerates when it comes to Cas,’ Sam said seriously. Dean wasn’t sure what Sam was implying.

‘Those are good eyes,’ Donna said approvingly. ‘Nice eyes. Real pretty. Look kinda like Claire’s but they’re … bluer.’

Donna, of course, had been filled-in before on the whole Jimmy Novak vessel thing.

‘It’s just this thing,’ Cas mumbled modestly, gesturing what he was wearing. ‘It makes them look bluer than they actually are.’

‘Oh come on, you’re just being modest,’ said Sam.

‘They looked just as blue yesterday as they look today,’ Aroura said matter-of-factly, nodding in agreement with Sam.

‘They’re really not that blue,’ Cas insisted, not looking anyone in the eyes.

‘Yeah, and Dean has like, _two_ freckles,’ Sam replied sarcastically.

‘Anyway,’ Dean said with a little cough, heading further into the room, ‘breakfast.’

‘Lunch,’ Sam corrected.

‘Whatever,’ said Dean.

‘So, Cas,’ said Jody, speaking as casually as if she’d known Cas for years, ‘talk to us. Give us the dirt on the Winchesters. Stuff only you would know. It’s about time we got some inside stuff on these boys.’

Cas walked farther into the room with his arms folded, standing closer to the table.

‘Well,’ Cas began, ‘let me start off by talking about Sam’s collection of scrunchies. And then we’ll move on to Dean’s incredibly short jean-shorts.’

Close by him, Claire started laughing uncontrollably at the thought of Dean in shorts. Alex had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop from going down the same path. Donna rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand.

‘Please,’ she urged mischievously, ‘go on.’

Aroura nudged Sam.

‘Collection of scrunchies?’ she asked him.

‘Three scrunchies is _not_ a collection,’ Sam protested.

It was already obvious it was going to be a good day.

The kitchen was a little over crowded, so before Cas got into dishing the dirt, the group relocated to the long tabled room, where the enormous Christmas tree towered above them all looking almost intimidating. The lights flashed happily as the people in the room paid it glances every now and then, among ridiculous stories.

Cas, as was requested, did elaborate on things he had seen on days both Sam and Dean were inside the bunker with no intentions of going out. Sam, when he got tired of Cas making fun of the times he’d decided to put his hair up because he didn’t feel like dealing with it that day, brought up the night of his and Cas’s trip to Hot Topic where they’d tried on all that Supernatural merchandise, and even dragged up some ridiculous looking pictures of Cas from the night. Dean then jumped on the bandwagon making fun of both of them for all the crap they’d bought, which then led to a slightly awkward discussion about why Hot Topic sold “Supernatural” merchandise in the first place since everyone had forgotten Aroura didn’t know about that whole thing.

‘Dean covered this thing on these phony ghosts in a fake haunted house once,’ was Sam’s explanation, ‘and some guy started writing books about real ghosts and stuff using us as characters.’

‘Oh,’ said Aroura, thinking it over, then she raised her eyebrows looking impressed. ‘Cool.’

Aroura was able to get in on the action too, though, with the story telling. She educated everyone on the day when they were sixteen and at school that Sam hadn’t been looking where he was going and ended up slamming straight into the lockers. Sam’s reaction to her telling that story was to tell the story of the time Aroura had been twisting her hair around her pen in class and managed to get her hair tangled up so much that she couldn’t get the pen free.

And then that reminded Claire of a pen story where Alex had managed to stab herself in the eye with one once, which led to Alex telling them all about how Claire had been standing on her bed while changing a light bulb and managed to fall off it. And that reminded Claire of a story about Jody, where Jody was standing on a chair to reach an extremely high shelf and she fell off that, which led to a story about Claire trying to reach the same shelf by kneeling on the counter top and accidentally kneeling on a plate of uncovered, half melted butter and screaming because she didn’t know what it was before she looked down. Then Donna offered up a personal anecdote about stepping in a mysterious damp liquid on the floor of her kitchen while wearing no shoes but still wearing socks, slipping, hitting the sweeping brush as she fell and having the brush fall and hit her on the head. And then that led to Sam telling a story about a time Dean had grabbed a sweeping brush, intending to use it to get rid of some cobwebs in his bedroom, but he had tried to toss it in the air and catch it again and failed causing it to hit him in the face.

The circle went around for a while. Funny stories here, embarrassing stories there, stories of someone being extremely annoying dotted among them. It was shocking how easy the interaction came, and now normal it seemed. It was like the group gathered together every day and did this sort of thing.

After a while, Aroura got a phone call and a panicked look washed over her as she rushed to take it, and the conversation, of course, turned right in her direction.

‘So how did that happen?’ Jody asked, raising her eyebrows at Sam.

‘I told you on the phone,’ said Sam, shrugging. ‘We got back in contact and she asked if she could come over.’

‘Yeah, I know that but … _how_?’

Sam shrugged.

‘I don’t know. It just did.’

‘And you two are together?’ Donna probed. ‘Like, together together?’

‘I guess,’ Sam said indifferently, shrugging. ‘It’s only here third day here and we only talked for about a week before she arrived but … yeah. I guess we are.’

Dean and Cas exchanged a look. So, Cas _had_ been right in referring to Aroura as Sam’s girlfriend.

‘Don’t you think it happened a little fast?’ Jody asked, but clarified, ‘no judgement, though.’

‘Fast? _Really_?’ Alex asked, raising an eyebrow slowly at Jody. ‘We _know_ you’ve seen faster.’

‘You and Claire being all over each other two days after Claire arrived isn’t the same as this,’ Jody said with a roll of her eyes at Alex’s expression.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up upon hearing this information and leaned close to Cas next to him and muttered so only could hear, ‘like angel-in-father, like daughter,’ in reference to the fact that Claire was queer. Cas hid his smile with his hand while trying not to laugh.  

‘I know it seems fast,’ Sam admitted, completely frankly. ‘I know I barely know Aroura. But it’s like I do know her. It’s like I’ve known her since the day we met.’

Dean was grateful for the non-cutsey way Sam stated it. Jody seemed satisfied with that answer. Donna seemed to be extremely happy for Sam.

‘It’s good that you’re happy,’ she told him. ‘From what Jody tells me you boys have had it rough.’

‘Yeah, you could say that alright,’ Dean said with a bitter laugh, trying to recall the last time there wasn’t some huge crisis to fix.

‘But things are looking up lately,’ said Sam.

That was pushing it. Things were definitely not looking up. No word on Aroura being The Savior or any savior activity at all, nothing major Amara-related but the fact that she was still out there wasn’t a good feeling. Sam had almost been stuck in the cage with Lucifer again until Cas had come to the rescue and as for what was going to happen next, once their break was over … who knew.

Then again, there were some good things. Sam and Aroura were happy even if Aroura was always overly-happy. She was still likable. And the fact that Dean and Cas were together too … Dean nudged Cas’s foot with his own under the table.  Dean felt Cas nudge back. He glanced over at Cas, meeting his eyes. Before his smile impending could creep up on him, Dean pulled his eyes away. Once he did so, he accidentally caught the eyes of both Claire and Alex in turn, felt a momentary increase in the beating of his heart, shifted in his seat and stared blankly at the wall with his head turned completely away from Cas.

Thankfully, at that moment, Aroura arrived back looking flustered, so the focus was back on her.

Talk moved on from amusing short stories onto questions and answers about where all the decorations came from. That gave Sam and Cas the opportunity to tell the full tale of their trip and everything it led to; the decorating of the tree and the rest of the bunker and the Christmas sweaters, which would be worn tomorrow and the next day, apart from with Dean, who’d stick to the Jack Skellington Christmas sweater before saving his creation for a brief appearance on Christmas day. He was very insistent about that, despite the protests.

Stories of Dean and Cas’s trips to the city soon followed. Sam hadn’t heard about what exactly they’d gotten up to on these trips either, and he still didn’t hear about it due to the very revised versions of events, limited to simply ‘eating junk, watching Netflix and talking about worthless crap.’

After that, somehow the topic of last night’s Monopoly game came up and Dean’s sore loserliness was described in great detail, by Cas especially detailing exactly how Dean had frustrated and aggressively packed away the pieces, and that story was followed by Dean declaring Cas’s win was beginner’s luck and that during a rematch Dean would definitely win.

Which is how they ended up playing that rematch. All eight of them played in the living room, crowded together and many of them on the floor, while a Christmas movie played in the background on Netflix on the television that no one was paying attention to.

Thankfully, this game was less tense than last night’s but it wasn’t any less competitive. This time, though, Dean was the first player out which completely fucked up his thing of winning in a rematch and he moodily stormed out of the room, only to return moments later and stand behind the couch to watch as the game continued.

‘I don’t care who wins, as long as it’s not Cas,’ he declared, receiving an annoyed look from Cas in return.

The next person to lose was Claire. It was taxes that got her in the end; she was a much more graceful loser than Dean was, simply stating that if anyone was going to win now then it had to be Alex, before she stood up from her spot on the floor to go stand with Dean behind the couch, which seemed to be the spot for those who had lost.

Once she was sure no one was paying them any attention, Claire nudged Dean and jerked her head towards the door, then held up one finger and left the room. Dean got the message, though it did fill him with dread. It was probably some kind of confrontation about this morning. Hell, it was _definitely_ a confrontation about this morning.

After waiting around thirty seconds, making sure no one was paying attention still, Dean followed Claire out to where she was waiting outside the door. Together, they walked a little away from the room, and Claire started off with something Dean hadn’t expected.

‘Sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘This morning,’ she explained. ‘We should have knocked harder, I guess.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Dean brushed off. ‘It’s cool.’

He didn’t feel like it was cool, exactly, but at the same time … he barely knew Claire, but she didn’t seem to be acting any differently towards him. His only fear was someone else finding out. But Claire having found out seemed like a smaller deal than he had expected anyone finding out to be.

‘I’m still sorry,’ she expressed. ‘Mostly about Alex. Her mind can be a little … well you can probably guess.’

Dean could. If he’d walked in on two people unexpectedly in bed together with clothes strewn about the room he’d probably be giggling like a twelve year old for hours after it. Though he probably wouldn’t have been as bold to ask ‘who tops?’

‘Yeah, I get it,’ said Dean, nodding.

‘And we won’t tell anyone,’ Claire clarified. ‘I won’t. Alex won’t. She might seem like she will, but she won’t. She’ll probably bring it up if you two are ever alone though.’

Dean nodded. He was more than a little relieved to hear that, but couldn’t help but wonder if it would be so bad if they did tell.

‘I appreciate that.’

There was an awkward pause. Claire’s smile seemed both sincere and strained. She and Dean didn’t exactly know each other all that well, but she was going to be staying here for a few days so she wanted to make an effort with everyone.

‘Could I maybe get some coffee?’ she asked, shuffling from foot to foot.

‘Yeah, sure,’ said Dean. ‘Don’t even ask. We’ve got a whole load of crap so just take whatever you want.’

‘Thanks,’ Claire smiled, the same smile. ‘I kinda … don’t remember the way to the kitchen though.’

She looked expectant, yet shy. Dean understood now. She was reaching out. Making an effort. Like Dean had with the whole mini golf thing during their last encounter.

‘I’ll show you,’ Dean said casually. ‘This way.’

It seemed more awkward than it should have been due to the normality of the circumstances. There was no case to be solved here, nor was Claire that run-away teenager and Dean that mark-affected maniac anymore. She, like the majority of those back in the living room, was a guest. A normal guest, here for Christmas, a normal holiday which normal people celebrated.

When they reached the kitchen, Dean gestured the cupboards and surfaces.

‘Take a look and see if there’s anything there you want and help yourself. I’ll make the coffee.’

‘Thanks,’ said Claire.

Dean sincerely hoped he seemed nice and not totally weird, because he was trying to be nice. He was still a newbie at the whole interacting with teenagers thing. Kids, he’d managed to get used to years ago, but it was rare that he came across a teenager that wasn’t part of a case that he had to talk to about some weird death or whatever. Still … he and Claire couldn’t be that different. He already knew they both seemed competitive and gloaty when it came to mini golf, they both cared about Cas (or at least that’s what he gathered, from Claire asking him to keep an eye on him) and they both, apparently, liked Black Sabbath. He presumed that it was the thing from this morning that was making this a whole lot more uncomfortable than it needed to be.

Dean put two mugs on the table and before he sat down he asked, ‘do you take sugar? Or cream? I think we have cream.’

Claire, nibbling on the edge of a biscuit she’d grabbed from a tin, shook her head. Dean sat down across from her. They sat in silence, sipping, until Claire broke the tension.

‘So you had some mark thing that’s gone?’ she asked. Dean nodded.

‘Yeah. A spell took care of that.’

‘Like a magic spell?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Like witch magic?’

‘Yeah. There’s this witch, Rowena. She’s a real pain in the ass. She did the spell, and the mark just …’

He made a frying noise and gestured his arm.  Claire looked impressed.

‘So a real witch? A real, live, witch?’

‘You were just playing Monopoly with an _angel_ and you’re excited about a _witch_?’

Claire laughed. Dean smiled.

‘Good point.’ There was a pause as silence prepared itself to settle back in, but Claire kept it at bay. ‘I think it’s great, by the way.’

‘You think what’s great?’

‘You and Castiel,’ Claire clarified. ‘Or … Cas, as you guys all seem to call him. It’s great.’

Dean felt some of his unease leak away.

‘You think so?’

‘Yeah,’ Claire nodded. ‘He seems more relaxed … happier. You both do.’

Dean hadn’t been aware of the fact that he seemed happier. He certainly felt it, more relaxed too, but he’d been trying not to seem like anything was any different.  

‘I guess we are happier,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But … secretly.’

Claire nodded again, smiling this time. She tilted her head to the side in a way that reminded Dean strongly of Cas.

‘I get it,’ she said. ‘The whole secrecy thing … but it’s kinda obvious. You look at each other like my mom and dad used to look at each other.’

Dean felt a flurry of cold and churning inside him. A comparison to an actual married couple … to actual _soulmates_ which still sounded like bullshit to him but … wow. It was almost like an epiphany, as if he didn’t already know, the thought _I really fucking love Cas_ ran through his mind. He couldn’t stop his smile when he thought about Cas, even though it was stupid and ridiculous and embarrassing to be smiling this way in front of someone, the fact that this was brought on only by a simple thought was worse, but he tried not to let that show.

‘Well, what can I say,’ Dean said rhetorically. ‘You told me to keep an eye on the guy. I’m just doing what you asked me to do.’

‘I said “an eye”. Not both eyes and both hands and your face and whatever else you’ve had all over him.’

Dean tried to turn his laugh into a cough, but it didn’t work. If he’d tried to turn his entire miniature laughing fit into a coughing one he’d probably sound like he was dying. When his laughter was done, he exhaled, and replied.

‘I’m very sorry. I’ll try to keep to my specific instructions next time. One eye. Not even both eyes, just one eye.’

Claire tried to keep her own laughter short-lived, nodding approvingly.

‘So how long have you two been …?’

‘Not long,’ said Dean. ‘It was, uh … the night of our trip to the city. We said some stuff. I guess that’s when it started.’

‘And you two are like, together now? Like Sam and Aroura … but gayer?’

Dean’s laugh was even louder now and he had to cover his face with his hand before it would stop. Claire wasn’t laughing. She looked like she should have been, but she also looked deadly serious.

‘Yeah,’ Dean said eventually, ‘like them but gayer. Like you and Alex, apparently.’

‘Yeah, that’s probably a better comparison,’ Claire nodded, now letting some small giggles escape. They died down pretty soon, until she was back more serious again. ‘Do you love him?’

It wasn’t something Dean liked to talk about. The l-word. But it was getting easier.

‘Yeah,’ said Dean. ‘I do.’

He had to remind himself that being in love with Cas and being able to talk about it didn’t make him weak in any way. In fact, it probably made him stronger.

‘Good,’ Claire said firmly. ‘He deserves that. You both do.’

‘I appreciate that.’

There was less tension after that.

After they finished their coffee, they headed back to the living room together to find no one else had yet been forced to drop out of the game and apparently, hadn’t even noticed Dean or Claire had been gone. Cas had noticed alright, and caught Dean’s eye when he got back, and smiled at him. Dean smiled right back at him.

Yeah, he could say, that in this moment he was happy.

Those who lost the game were those who were in charge of supplying those still playing with snacks, so that was another trip to the kitchen for Dean and Claire and also for Donna, who lost all her money shortly before the snack suggestion. When they got back from their snack trip, Cas was out now too, watching the game from behind the couch looking like he didn’t mind losing at all. The urge to put his arm around Cas’s waist as they stood next to each other was strong, but Dean managed to withhold.

As the game progressed, Claire managed to discreetly get next to Cas and whisper something simple: ‘I’m happy for you.’ Cas thanked her, and they spoke no more of it as Sam was forced to leave the game and they cheered for his effort and Sam joined the group behind the couch, even though they didn’t _all_ have to be behind there since there were two perfectly good empty armchairs close by too.

In the end, it was Alex who won the game. She didn’t gloat about it _that_ much. More than most, but less than some would have. By the time of Alex’s victory it was a little after 5pm; they had been playing this for _four hours_. It was about time for a break and some food, so Dean volunteered to go grab some pizza where he always got it when at the bunker, the Pizza Hut twenty minutes away.

‘I’ll help,’ Cas said at once.

Dean collected pizza orders, and then he and Cas were off just as the group were pondering the shelf of games for another thing to play. It was weird seeing them all so normal.

Cas reached out for Dean’s hand almost as soon as they were out of sight of the living room and held on tightly.

‘I wanted you to win again,’ Dean admitted, stroking his thumb along the side of Cas’s finger.

‘I know,’ said Cas with a grin. With his free hand, Cas grabbed hold of Dean’s arm that was closest to him and pulled himself closer to Dean’s side. ‘It’s _Christmas_ , Dean.’

Dean looked sideways at Cas and couldn’t help smiling. He’d never seen him this happy before. He didn’t know whether Cas’s current happiness was a good thing or his previous unhappiness was a bad one. Both, probably.

‘So I’m guessing you’ve had a good day?’ Dean asked.

They hadn’t gotten to talk much while playing and watching the game. Mostly just game related comments and light hearted stuff.

‘A very good day,’ Cas confirmed.

‘Good,’ said Dean, squeezing Cas’s hand and trying to resist the urge to kiss the side of his head. That would be too cutsey. ‘Me too.’

Fuck it. He kissed the side of his head. Cas beamed at him.

It wasn’t until they were in the car that Cas decided to bring up the mysterious vanishing of Dean and Claire earlier.

‘So what did you and Claire talk about?’ he asked curiously.

‘She wanted to tell us we’re going to hell for doing gay stuff,’ Dean said offhandedly.

‘ _What_?’

‘She says we look happy and that she’s thinks it’s great we’re together and that she and Alex are definitely not telling anyone.’

Cas rolled his eyes at Dean’s previous joke. Dean looked at Cas, and once again for a moment wondered what would happen if either Claire or Alex slipped up and _did_ tell someone. All of a sudden, it didn’t seem so bad. Last night … it shouldn’t have changed anything. But it changed _everything_. It hadn’t just been sex. It was something else too … something more.

‘She told me she’s happy for us,’ Cas commented.

‘When?’ Dean asked.

‘When everyone was watching to see if Jody had enough money to give Alex when she landed on that hotel a little before Sam landed on the same one.’

‘Huh,’ said Dean, with a small laugh. He paused, looking at Cas again. Castiel’s expression was neutral as he looked straight ahead. ‘She told me that we look at each other like her parents used to look at each other.’

Cas’s neutral mask broke into one of those smiles Dean just couldn’t quite describe as Cas looked down for a moment, then back up again, then at Dean.

‘I can’t say that surprises me. As far as I could tell, Jimmy and Amelia cared very deeply about each other. And I care very deeply about you.’

Dean took one hand off the wheel to affectionately place on Cas’s knee.

‘Yeah. Me too.’

Castiel placed his hand over Dean’s. It had been a long, relatively Dean-free day. He was used to those, but now they seemed more difficult. Last night, he and Dean had connected in a way Cas had never connected with anyone before. The first time they’d engaged in sexual acts, Cas had trusted Dean to do whatever, Dean had made Cas feel things that were out of this world, and Cas was grateful. This time, Dean had trusted Cas, letting Cas see him, watch him, when he was at his most exposed, trusting that Cas wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t do anything wrong, wouldn’t suddenly decide to reject him, wouldn’t do anything bad at all, and that kind of trust was a big thing for Castiel.

And it was a big thing for Dean.

When they got out of the car after the twenty minute drive, instead of going inside, Dean headed straight for Cas’s side of the car.

‘Dean, what –’

Dean put his hands on Cas’s waist and kissed him in full view of the people in the parking lot around them. And even though this was a public place, even though Dean had been here many times before and would come here many times after and was on first name basis with half the staff in the place, Dean grabbed hold of Cas’s hand, forming a vice around it as they headed inside, Dean’s free hand fumbling with the list of orders he had written down, pulling it out of his pocket.

They strolled inside. It was relatively empty, apart from two people waiting for their pizzas, so there was no wait to order. Dean grinned in greeting at one of the people who’d served him there many times before. After sliding him the list, Dean added, ‘and throw in some extra wings for my boyfriend here.’

The word felt unusual. As their server looked over the list, he seemed unphased.

‘Sure thing,’ was his only response. ‘Big order. That’ll be about fifteen minutes, alright?’

‘Yeah, that’s cool.’

Dean with Cas in tow headed over to some empty seats to wait for their order. Cas looked a mixture of confused and joyful.

‘Dean …’

‘Claire knows,’ Dean stated simply. ‘And Alex knows. And nothing bad happened. No walls crashing, no alarm bells ringing, no horrified screaming when they saw us this morning. Right?’

‘… Right.’

‘And last night, we had sex. And it wasn’t even a big deal. We had sex, and it was great, and it was easy. And talking to Claire about you today was easy. And calling you my boyfriend was easy. I don’t know why since I was literally terrified of anyone finding out a few days ago, but it all just seems so damn _easy_.’

Dean was very aware of the fact that he was grinning way too much and that his sudden change in mind set was, well, just that, _sudden_ , but he didn’t care. His epiphany earlier hadn’t just been about how much he loved Cas. It had been about how proud he was of that fact.

‘What are you trying to say?’ Cas asked, almost urgently.

‘I’m saying that they day I told you I was into chicks _and_ dudes was terrifying. But actually being with a dude is not. I don’t know why or how my mind’s been changed, but I know not being able to hold your stupid hand while watching the others play that game today was hard and I didn’t like it.’

‘So …?’

‘So, I say we walk back into that bunker and hold hands or kiss under all the mistletoe we’ve been avoiding or just sit really close together and see if anyone even bothers to notice us acting a little gay.’

If Dean had thought he’d never seen Cas happier earlier, that was nothing compared to now. He almost didn’t even look like Cas anymore with a smile that wide. He leaned towards Dean quickly, pressed their lips together firmly and briefly and pulled away just as quickly as he’d leaned in, smiling as wide as he had been before he had.

They left with more pizza than eight people could possibly eat, but would most certainly eat, and enough side dishes to feed a small class. They broke into the extra wings on the drive back; Dean mostly stuck to the breaded boneless ones since he could just toss them into his mouth without worrying about bones, but knowing that Dean’s favorite ones were the ones with bones, Cas stepped in to help and broke up a few so that all Dean had to do was get the meat off of the bone without having to deal with the various parts of the wing.

‘We make a good team, you and me,’ Dean commented as he polished off his last broken piece of wing.

‘As we’ve proven on many occasions,’ Castiel replied brightly.

When they got back to the bunker and back to the living room, a game of Cards Against Humanity was in progress. They were taking turns per round on who was the judge and didn’t even notice when Dean and Castiel entered the room. Sam and Aroura were sharing a chair and Claire and Alex were doing the same, leaving Jody and Donna to share the couch, which could only seat three.

‘The pizza men are here,’ Dean announced loudly, to get the attention of those engrossed in the game. ‘Get it while it’s hot.’

It wasn’t the best location for eating a large amount of food, but they made it work. As much as possible was put on the coffee table, but some of the pizzas had to make do with the floor with people being careful not to step on them when grabbing a slice.

Dean and Castiel grabbed themselves some cards at random and joined in the game. Dean sat in the remaining seat next to Donna and Jody, and after a moment of hesitation, Cas sat on the arm of the couch right next to Dean. As some time went on, Cas edged closer and closer to literally sitting right on top of Dean. And when he got there, no one even bothered commenting on it.

And then, half way through his fourth slice of pizza, Cas realized that he’d been eating since the car without drinking a single drop of coffee and he could taste every non-moleculey bite. He didn’t know whether to think of it as him having drank so much coffee over the past few days that it had cancelled out his need for it, or to think of it as something he should have been worried about.

After they’d tired out Cards Against Humanity, they played Ellen’s Heads Up! for a while. The last of the food was polished off during the game and honestly watching people try to act out things or impersonate things was one of the funniest things to happen in forever; especially when it came to Cas. Cas would never normally do any of the things he was doing tonight and truth be told he looked ridiculous, but he was _good_. He was paired with Dean most of the time, because it just worked out that way, but they won almost every time.

Once that game was tired out, for now at least, the group decided on a break from gaming and they split up into subgroups of sorts. Jody and Donna both got talking to Aroura about something or other and Sam took Claire and Alex to see the library which they’d both asked about in a curious manner, leaving Dean and Cas relatively alone and in charge of the TV that had been on in the background. They moved to one of the empty chairs now, Dean in the chair and Cas perched on his knee, leaning back against him, as Dean went on his quest to play Grey’s Anatomy again. They hadn’t watched any all day.

When asked something by one of the three on the couch, they responded, of course. And when Sam and the two girls came back into the room and both Claire and Alex gave them slightly odd looks, they didn’t react, simply gave them casual looks in return. No questions were asked.

Barely twenty minutes into the Grey’s episode, it was swapped out for a movie. It was a Christmas movie called “Bad Santa” and it was good. It was the first Christmas movie, excluding those on in the background earlier in the day, Castiel had ever sat down and watched and he liked it very much. It was a little after nine when it finished.

The atmosphere was definitely more relaxed now. Excited chattering turned to short, amusing stories again like earlier in the day, but this time they were about Christmases of past. Sam and Dean recalled that one Christmas from years ago that barely even qualified as a Christmas, Donna told a story from one odd childhood Christmas involving a mysteriously moving carrot and Aroura told stories of Christmases while attending Harvard and then some from when she was a surgical resident, detailing about how there was this one person in the program who was basically the Grinch, or Ebenezer Scrooge, or a mixture of both, and the other residents would always stick Christmas related notes an stickers to the back of her jacket when she wasn’t paying attention.

Dean found himself oddly excited about the fact that Aroura had been a surgeon. Probably something, or everything, to do with Grey’s Anatomy.

They all parted for bed about an hour and a half later. In the doorway leading to the corridor the bedrooms were situated on, there was some mistletoe that had been ignored since it was put up there, even by Sam despite the fact that he had Aroura now. Claire and Alex were the first ones to acknowledge it, stopping underneath it briefly to comply to the tradition before continuing on.

Dean and Castiel were the last two people behind everyone else, and as they passed by it, Castiel remembered what Dean had said about kissing under the ignored mistletoe. As Dean continued to walk by, not paying attention to the stuff as was usual, Cas tugged on his hand to pull him back and looked up at the offending plant. Dean glanced up at it too, then smirked at Cas, and the two proceeded to share a short, but still very obvious, kiss.

They went to continue walking, expecting to see a corridor full of people staring at them, but in actual fact, _no one even fucking noticed_.

Well, no one apart from Alex, who was the last one about to go into her room.

‘You two are great at keeping it a secret,’ she said sarcastically.

‘Secrets are for cowards,’ Dean replied curtly, smiling smugly to himself as he and Cas walked hand-in-hand towards Cas’s bedroom door anymore. ‘And we’re not cowards. Not anymore, at least. Goodnight.’

‘… Night …’

Cas gave a final little wave before Dean hauled him into the room. The last thing he saw before he was pulled inside was Alex’s extremely confused expression.


	17. Resting Angels

Once the door was closed behind them, Dean kicked off his shoes and lay down on one side of Cas’s bed with his legs stretched out in front of him like it was his own. Castiel sat by Dean’s feet and placed a hand on his leg.

‘So I take it you’re planning on spending the night in here,’ he presumed, looking at Dean who looked pensive.

‘If it’s okay by you,’ said Dean, nodding. He got into more of a sitting position and surveyed Cas.

‘It’s always okay by me,’ Castiel promised. ‘I like having you around. Your presence is vaguely comforting. And you’re not completely horrible to look at.’

Dean raised his eyebrows. Cas smirked and stood up, walked to the other side of the bed, kicked off his shoes and sat next to Dean. Dean’s expression could only be described as suggestive. Cas rolled his eyes.

‘No one even noticed anything different,’ Dean said suddenly. ‘About us.’

‘I know,’ said Cas. He moved closer to Dean. ‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing, do you think?’

‘Don’t know,’ Dean shrugged. ‘It’s just … a thing. Maybe we should make it more _obvious._ ’

‘Obvious how?’ Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged.

‘Stand in front of the Christmas Tree and make out?’ he suggested playfully. Cas didn’t look amused. Dean laughed. ‘I’m kidding. It’s only been a few hours. They’ll notice eventually. For now we just … act natural.’

‘What kind of natural?’ Cas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean mimicked his eyebrow raise and leaned towards him a little.  Getting the idea, Cas leaned towards Dean. And then Dean leaned some more. And then Cas got impatient and practically lunged forward, grabbing onto Dean as their lips crashed together once again. Castiel was getting very used to this, and if he’d thought that finally getting to fuck Dean would make his constant need to do it go away, he was mistaken. If anything, it made the need stronger, and Cas was going to give into it as often as he could, so long as that was okay with Dean of course. And he wasn’t going to fool around from now on, taking things all slow and easy, he was going to get right to the point and do whatever he wanted to do because damn, it was about time he got to do what he wanted to do.

What he wanted to _do_ , was Dean.

Cas figured it was best to go with his instincts considering the fact that last night they seemed to be pretty right. Doubting himself had been thing that had come in the beginning, when not completely sure what this whole situation was anyway, but thankfully that was a thing of the past. Cas wasted no time now in hooking his leg over one of Dean’s and taking most of the control. He hoped Dean wouldn’t mind not being the one in charge. He hadn’t seemed to have minded last night.

Castiel was the one to deal with all of the clothing this time. His own and Dean’s alike, and he made quick work of it too. The fact that Dean looked so surprised, _pleasantly_ surprised, egged him on. Cas was out of his timid questioning self, the version of him that was all curious and confused at the same time, and into that bad-ass version of himself that dominated every task he was set.

The lube was still on the bedside table. Dean’s legs were in the air in a position he’d only tried once before, that wasn’t very comfortable, but extremely pleasurable. His legs were over Cas’s shoulders, his ankles hooked over each other behind Cas’s head and Cas’s hands were digging into his hips. Cas didn’t even bother starting off slow when he got his dick in Dean. Only at the start, letting Dean get used to it in this position. And then he was off, basically _pounding_ into Dean so hard that the bed started to shake, but Cas made sure to time when he pulled back perfectly, so that the bed jerked away from the wall as the headboard was about to slam into it, so no contact or loud banging was made.

Dean could barely think clearly. This was _exactly_ what he wanted and what he’d fantasized about for a long time. Dean was always in control when it came to hunting, and killing, he was always the dominant one in that situation, but when it came to his fantasies he wanted to be dominated, not dominating. He wanted hot women with big boobs to climb on top of him and use him until they were satisfied, and he wanted pretty dark haired men to slam into him and make all the neighbors know their names.

Unfortunately Dean couldn’t shout out Cas’s name, keeping quiet like had last night. All he could do was hold onto the bed in attempt to stay in one place and bite down on his lip so hard he was sure his teeth would go through it.

Dean came untouched. That was something that rarely happened, _very_ rarely, but seeing Cas’s eyes screwed shut, his jaw clenched, feeling his hands digging into Dean’s hips like his fingers were going to leave bruises, feeling Cas inside him hitting the right spot with every thrust an feeling so damn _full_ of Cas, was enough to have him spurting into the air, onto his chest, even getting some drops onto the sheets below them.

Cas came soon after him, riding it out until he was done. Dean’s legs upwrapped from around his neck over his shoulders and fell down, landing on the bed either side of Cas. Castiel climbed out from between Dean’s legs and lay against the pillows next to him.

‘Holy fucking shit,’ Dean hissed. ‘ _Holy fucking shit_.’

Cas rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and smiled at Dean coupled with a look of complete innocence.

‘Is that natural enough for your idea natural?’

Dean turned his head to look at him.

‘How the fuck can you do that?’

Castiel frowned.

‘Do what?’

‘Go from the hottest thing on the planet to the cutest thing on the planet in a matter of seconds.’

The frown continued.

‘I wasn’t aware of the fact that that happened.’

Dean groaned. Cas arched an eyebrow with a near-blank expression.

‘And now you’re doing the eyebrow thing and you’re all hot again,’ Dean whined.

‘The eyebrow thing,’ Cas started blankly, lowering it.

‘Yeah. The eyebrow thing.’

‘You mean …’ Cas started, getting to his knees and climbing onto Dean, starting to smirk now, ‘ _this_?’

The eyebrow was up again. Cas felt Dean’s dick, just behind where he was sitting, start to harden again and the eyebrow went even higher.

‘Seriously?’

Dean raised both of his own eyebrows.

‘Can you blame me?’

Dean teasingly reached out with one hand to take hold of Cas’s cock and used two fingers from the other hand to start stroking it. Cas sighed over-dramatically as if  doing this twice in one night was beneath him.

‘Dean …’

‘Come on, Cas. Don’t deny me a round two.’

‘Are you aware of how needy you sound?’

‘Perfectly aware, yeah.’

Castiel’s next sigh was even more dramatic and a little weary.

‘Get on your hands and knees and try not to get come all over my bed.’

Shuddering with anticipation, Dean did as instructed. He heard the sound of Cas lubing up again and felt Cas’s fingers inside him again, one in and out, two in and out, a quick stretch, and then they were off again, Cas holding Dean’s hips at first and remaining in an upright position on his knees, and then he stretched himself forwards, holding onto Dean’s shoulders, pressing kisses onto his lightly freckled back. This time around his thrusts were longer and deeper yet still just as hard. When Cas felt himself getting close again, he took one hand off Dean’s shoulder and wrapped it around Dean’s dick and starting rubbing up and down slowly, increasing in speed as he started to increase in the speed of his thrusts, coming up to and then going through his second orgasm of the night.

Immediately after he pulled out, panting, he nudged Dean over onto his back again and replaced his hand with his mouth. He’d learned a few tricks from Dean during their first sexual encounter and it wasn’t hard to replicate them, throwing in a few experimental things he hoped would add to the pleasure Dean was receiving. It took a little longer for Dean’s climax, which was understandable for a man in his mid-almost-late-thirties, but when he did Cas swallowed all of it and licked his lips.

It didn’t taste of molecules like the last time he’d tasted it. A slight worry set in, but Cas ignored it. Of course it wasn’t a bad thing that he could taste stuff. It couldn’t be, right?

Dean’s knees were weak when he stood up and grabbed the pajama pants he’d worn last night from the floor and pulled them on. He turned towards Cas, laying half propped up by pillows, half on his side, one knee bent with his foot flat on the bed and his arms folded, watching Dean.

‘Do you think anyone will see if I head to the bathroom without a shirt to get this off me?’

Dean gestured the drying come on his chest. Cas smirked.

‘I doubt it,’ he commented, sliding off the bed with ease and pulling on his own discarded pajama pants from last night and this morning. ‘But if anyone does see you, they’ll see me too. I need to wash my hands. There’s too much lube on them to dry out by themselves.’

Cas made his way over to join Dean by the door. The two left together in pursuit of the closest bathroom.

Dean locked the door behind them when they entered. Cas went straight for the sink and started washing his hands. Dean paused, lingering by the door and glanced at around. His towel was on the rack. He dropped his pajama pants and strolled towards the shower. He switched it on as Cas was drying his hands.

‘What are you doing?’ Castiel asked curiously, watching Dean test the temperature of the water.

‘Drop your pants and get in here,’ Dean requested.

‘Dean, it’s almost midnight. I think.’

‘So?’

‘Why would you want to shower at such a time?’

‘Because I didn’t get to shower this morning and this is more fun than just wiping down. Now are you getting in or not?’

Cas considered it for a moment, dropped his pants and joined Dean. Dean closed the shower door and adjusted the showerhead so that it was raining down over both of them. Cas gave an involuntary shiver feeling the difference between the temperature of the air and the water. Dean ran his hands up and down Cas’s arms and Cas pressed his forehead against Dean’s.

‘Is it too hot?’ Dean asked.

Cas shook his head and pulled his forehead away from Dean’s, sliding his arms around Dean’s neck.

‘No,’ said Cas. ‘It’s perfect. _You’re_ perfect.’

Dean grinned goofily.

‘I’d quote that stupid One Direction song at you, but that would mean I’d have to admit I actually like some of their stupid generic music,’ Dean joked. Cas raised his eyebrows. ‘Hey, don’t judge me. It’s hard to ignore music when it comes on the radio and that dude who left the group was hot.’

Cas laughed, shaking his head in disbelief at the fact that he wasn’t actually shocked by this, and kissed Dean, tightening his hold on him. Dean’s arms wrapped around Cas tightly, their bodies pressed together under the cascading water that felt like a waterfall to those two idiots with their eyes shut, completely lost in each other.

When they pulled apart, grinning like two idiots, Cas reached towards the shelf in the shower and grabbed the body wash and squirted some into his hand.

‘Let’s get you washed off,’ he said softly, placing the bottle back on the shelf and starting to lather the stuff up in his hands.

Dean closed his eyes when Cas placed his hand on his chest and started to rub it around in circles, soaping him up, doing his entire torso, and then his entire body. It was incredibly intimate, being washed by someone else, and there was nothing sexual about it even though they were both completely naked and very close together. Dean was completely relaxed under the flowing water with Cas.

It was over too soon, but Cas proceeded to wash Dean’s hair too, removing the product Dean added every morning to make it stay the way it did every day, and when he was done with that, he took hold of both of Dean’s hands and just stood there, both of the with their eyes closed, leaning against each other, both of them drowsy.

Cas shouldn’t have been drowsy.

‘Dean,’ Cas mumbled.

‘Mmm …’

‘ _Dean_ ,’ he repeated, more urgently.

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he straightened up, locking eyes with Cas.

‘What’s up?’

Castiel struggled to say the easy words.

‘I’m tired.’

Dean blinked a few times. He didn’t get it.

‘Tired of what?’

‘Tired tired,’ Cas clarified. ‘The sleeping kind of tired.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Dean stated. ‘Angels don’t sleep. Not unless they’re weakened, right? And you’re not …?’

‘Of course not,’ Cas said quickly. ‘How could I be? Nothing’s happened that could have weakened me. But last night … Dean, I slept.’

‘You slept,’ Dean repeated.

‘I slept,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘And today … I didn’t drink any coffee at all. Yet I could still taste everything I consumed.’

Dean suddenly looked fearful. Cas swallowed. That look wasn’t good.

‘It must be … it must be the acting more human thing, right?’ Dean asked in a strained and vaguely panicked voice. ‘You don’t need sleep, but you were right there laying down and it was night time so maybe it just … happened. And you’re used to eating stuff now and you maybe just … you just …’

‘You’re right,’ Castiel cut in, nodding, trying to appear as though it wasn’t something that worried him. And it shouldn’t have been; Dean’s way of thinking on it was logical. But Cas didn’t like how things seemed to be going down this path. It felt like the beginnings of something more sinister. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up. Ignore me. I’m overthinking, as usual.’

‘Yeah …’ Dean muttered, clearing his throat. He put on his business-like face and clapped Cas on the shoulder. ‘Well then. It’s late and I’m tired too. Let’s get to bed.’

Castiel nodded. Dean turned the shower off and grabbed his towel from the rack and wrapped it around Cas as they stepped out of the shower. Cas frowned.

‘What about you?’ he asked, looking at the towel Dean was holding around him to Dean dripping onto the floor.

‘I can wait,’ Dean replied. ‘Come on. Get dried off.’

Dean dragged the towel up and down Cas’s shoulders drying them off for him. Castiel could already sense that Dean was acting differently after finding out about Cas’s sudden new need for sleep and his lack of need for coffee before tasting. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. He _knew_ he shouldn’t have mentioned it.

He wasn’t going to bring up Dean’s sudden … what was it? More-protectiveness? Or was it worry? Whatever it was, Cas felt bad that he’d caused Dean to feel whatever he was feeling.

The whole showering and drying off thing was much more enjoyable now than it had been during Cas’s time as a human, but that was probably just because he had Dean drying him off and then he got to watch Dean dry off, bending to dry off his feet and working his way up. Watching how his body turned and stretched and moved was an immensely enjoyable experience. It was fun to pay attention to exactly where the freckles on his body were and when he noticed a few dotted here and there on his ass Cas began to wonder whether they were genetic or whether Dean had exposed his ass to the sun at some point for those freckles to colonize there.

‘Why don’t you head off to bed and I’ll catch up in a minute,’ Dean said, once he’d finished drying and had pulled his, well, Cas’s-but-that-he-was-borrowing pajama pants on.

Cas nodded. He got the message. Dean had to do some human stuff. Castiel unlocked the door and left, closing the door behind them.

Castiel wasn’t used to wandering the bunker at night alone when everyone was sleeping. It was quiet and it was peaceful, despite the fact that it wasn’t really any different in reality than to how it was during the day. The atmosphere just seemed like it had changed, he guessed.

Once back in his room, Cas picked up all of the discarded clothes on the ground and folded them, leaving them on the chair next to his bed that was also home to the grey blanket and then he slid beneath the covers of the bed, moving over to his own side and adjusting the pillows. He lay down on his back at first but changed to his side just seconds later, slipping one hand beneath his pillow and one hand on top of it. The covers here up over his shoulder. His water-warmed skin felt better under the covers than exposed above them.

Dean turned the light off when he entered. He gently climbed into be beside Cas and lay facing him, seeking out his eyes in the darkness. Dean was able to make out Cas better once his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and he noticed Cas looked a little … sad. Dean’s brow furrowed.

‘You okay?’ he asked softly.

Cas nodded, sighing disappointedly.

‘I just don’t want to have to sleep,’ he admitted quietly.

‘Then don’t,’ Dean replied plainly. ‘Don’t try to sleep. Just lay there and if you _need_ to sleep, you’ll probably fall asleep even if you don’t want to.’

‘I could try that,’ Cas said slowly. ‘I’ll try and keep my mind active and maybe it will go away.’

‘Yeah, do that,’ Dean nodded. He placed a hand on Cas’s face and kissed him softly, so softly that their lips barely even touched. ‘But me, on the other hand. I _need_ sleep. So goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Dean.’

Dean gave him a final smile before turning onto his front. He slept on his front the majority of the time, but the last few nights he’d slept on his side due to the position he’d been in with Cas. On his front, holding onto his pillow, was a comfortable position and it was a position he’d started sleeping in as a child when he’d had nightmares about waking up to see his mother burning on the ceiling. It had become a habit now, to sleep either on his front like this, or on his back when staying in some motel while working a job so he could easily sit up, reach for the nearest weapon and take out an attacker were he to be attacked.

Cas stared at Dean’s face for a while, which was turned towards him on Dean’s pillow. He couldn’t make out Dean’s features in as much detail as he would have been able to in light and he definitely couldn’t make out Dean’s freckles, which was disappointing. Attempting to count them would have given him something to do. He supposed he could always switch on Netflix, plug headphones in to avoid the TV waking Dean, but Cas didn’t want to move … or fall asleep while watching something. _If_ he were to fall asleep.

Picturing Dean’s face in full light helped somewhat and he attempted to count all the freckles in that way, but he was annoyed to discover he had not yet managed to map the exact position of every single freckle. To do that, he would have to _count_ them. He could see Dean’s face clear as day his mind, detailed as ever, but when he zoomed in on the freckled areas … he couldn’t get it detailed. He saw the fact that there were freckles, but didn’t see how many.

So, Cas decided to make a mental list of things he loved about Dean.

His freckles were high up there. And his eyes. His eyelashes. His lips; the shape, the color, the way they looked when moist, the way they felt on his own, how damn plump they were. His jawline; how it looked like it could cut diamonds it was that sharp, how it felt in Cas’s hands when Cas held Dean’s face, how it felt to press his lips against it, how it disappeared when Dean lay completely flat on his back without pillows, or maybe with just one soft pillow, supporting his head. Dean’s stubble, especially when he hadn’t shaved for a few days, like today for example; he could tell Dean hadn’t shaved today by the extra shadow and by how it felt scratchier than usual to kiss him. Yes, Dean looked good with extra shadow on his jaw … Cas briefly wondered what Dean would look like if he let it grow out a bit. Probably extremely fucking good.

Dean’s collarbone. Cas loved Dean’s collarbone. He was of the opinion that Dean should wear more v-neck shirts so it was exposed more. The low cut kind. The way the bones stuck out more or less depending on how Dean moved his neck was something Cas liked to watch.

It was somewhere around Dean’s shoulders and back that Cas fell asleep. He had been intending to go over Dean’s entire physique and then move onto his movements, his quirks, the different sides of his personality and so on, but the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to meet Dean’s which were gazing at him in the still comfort of morning.

His sleep had been dreamless. That was to be expected. He was still an angel, after all … but one that slept apparently. He was almost disappointed in himself, letting himself fall asleep like that … but it’s not like he’d been trying _not_ to fall asleep, he just hadn’t been trying to sleep.

‘Hey,’ Dean said softly. He could sense Cas’s disappointment and repeated a question he’d asked last night: ‘you okay?’

‘I guess,’ Cas groaned, rolling into his back and staring at the ceiling. ‘It seems as though I require sleep now.’

‘That can’t be so bad, can it?’ Dean asked, trying to sound comforting. His hand sought out Cas’s under the covers. ‘You get to take a break from life for a while and when you wake up you’re better rested.’

‘Sleep is an annoyance,’ Castiel stated. ‘Why would anyone want to lay in often uncomfortable positions, completely unconscious while hallucinating vividly for hours?’

‘Sex dreams?’ Dean suggested jokingly.

‘I don’t dream,’ Cas said flatly. ‘For me sleeping is like being dead for several hours. Being dead is not something I enjoy.’

Dean didn’t know what to say to make him feel better and fell silent, rolling onto his own back and fixing his eyes on the ceiling too. Cas had a point. Dean made a mental note to try and dig something up in a book or on the net about angels and why they might suddenly need to sleep without being weakened and still having all of their grace.

‘We should get dressed,’ Castiel decided promptly, sitting up quickly. ‘Your clothes from yesterday are on the chair. And don’t forget you have to wear your Christmas sweater today.’

‘Gotcha,’ Dean acknowledged, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed almost robotically as Cas headed for his dresser, where he’d left his own Christmas sweater. ‘I’ll meet you in the kitchen.’

‘I’ll make coffee,’ Cas replied monotonically.

Dean watched him. He looked gloomy. Feeling bad for him, Dean pulled on the t-shirt he’d worn yesterday to wear for the walk to his room, grabbed everything else he’d been wearing and headed for his own room. He dumped his clothes on his bed deciding he’d throw them in with the rest of his worn-stuff later for when he did laundry and pulled open his dresser to grab his Jack Skellington Christmas sweater that had been forced upon him. But he did have to admit, it looked pretty cool once he’d pulled it on and finished getting dressed.

He dropped off the pajama pants in Cas’s room. The room was empty already. Hoping Cas would feel better soon, he headed off to the bathroom.

When Dean got to the kitchen, he discovered not everyone was up yet. Sam and Aroura had yet to make an appearance, he was told Alex had made a brief one and decided that 9am was too early and that she’d be better off in bed again with a pillow over her head and Donna too was still sleeping.

Cas was sitting across from and talking to Jody and Claire, both of whom were complimenting his sweater. He seemed to have cheered up a tiny bit, but he didn’t seem as happy as he had been yesterday. Dean poured himself some coffee from the half full pot and went to the fridge to look inside and spied what he was in the mood for.

‘Bacon and eggs anyone?’ he offered.

All three took him up on the offer. Castiel took a moment to be thankful for the fact that he may have been tired last night, but at least he wasn’t _hungry_. Although bacon was very good so he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have some.

By the time Dean was finished cooking, Donna had shown up and she accepted a plate too. Dean made sure he made enough for more than just the group of those who were awake. When the other three decided to get up, if they wanted any, they could heat it up.

Dean ate at the counter since there wasn’t any room left at the table, grinning to himself seeing Cas begin to cheer up even more and forget his worries from this morning as Donna too jumped in to compliment Cas’s sweater.

Everyone was up before ten thirty. Once the hazy morning period of the day was over, the rest of the day could get started. The entire day, unlike yesterday, was not going to be spent all playing games together. Over breakfast, Aroura had mentioned the baking from the other day and suggested that she, and anyone else who wanted to, use the remainder of the baking stuff and make some more cookies and cupcakes. Sam, who seemed to want to do everything Aroura wanted to do, declared that he was in. Donna was up for it too.

Castiel hesitated before deciding. He’d liked baking. He’d like to get in on the whole baking scene again but … eh. He just didn’t _feel_ like it today. He felt better than he had that morning, but he didn’t feel good enough to tear his mind away and lose himself in dough and rolling pins and cookie cutters. Maybe later.

Those who weren’t going to baking left the three bakers to it. As soon as they’d left the kitchen, Alex came out with a question she’d been wondering since her arrival.

‘So do you have a dungeon in this place?’

Jody’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Of course not!’ she responded straight away, then noted Dean’s expression and his visual exchange with Cas. ‘You don’t, right? Tell me you don’t.’

‘I could,’ Dean reasoned, ‘but it’s not good when you lie to your friends.’

Alex lit up. Claire lit up almost as much.

‘Can we see it?’ Claire asked eagerly.

‘Are there blood covered chains?’ Alex asked, even more eagerly.

‘Of course there’s no blood covered chains,’ Dean scoffed. ‘You think we don’t clean it?’

Jody looked momentarily astounded as Claire and Alex looked at each other excitedly.

‘You two have dark minds,’ Jody sighed, shaking her head in disbelief at the look on the girls’ faces, then slowly turned back to Dean as they walked. ‘ _Can_ we see it?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Follow me.’

Dean led the way towards the dungeon. It was odd, taking people to see it simply because they were curious. It wasn’t a particularly interesting place, just a chair and some chains and a devil’s trap, as they could clearly see when they arrived. Seeing the chair so deliberately in the middle of the trap gave Cas a sudden memory of Dean sitting there, black eyed and growling. His hand twitched towards Dean’s automatically and Dean took hold of it.

‘Huh,’ said Alex, walking some of the way in and looking around. ‘It’s smaller than I expected.’

‘Have you ever had anything chained up in that chair?’ Claire asked, staring at the empty object.

‘Plenty of times,’ Dean nodded. ‘It’s been a while though. Last time there was someone tied up in here we just chained them up by one arm … that was a bad idea. Should’ve chained him up by both.’

‘Why?’

‘He ripped the arm off and escaped.’

‘And he didn’t _die_?’ Jody exclaimed, looking at Dean with a distasteful look. ‘Wouldn’t he bleed out?’

‘The guy was like a zombie,’ Dean shrugged. ‘It probably wasn’t even his arm to begin with.’

‘ _Awesome_ ,’ said Alex.

The next place they went was the library. Claire and Alex had had a good look around yesterday and decided they’d rather go check out the games shelf in the living room, but now Jody was curious about the place so they headed over there and looked around, Claire and Alex now off doing their own thing. Jody wandered around, pulling some books from the shelves and pouring over a paragraph or two.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Dean asked Cas quietly, while Jody was distracted with a large volume on werewolves. ‘You seen pretty quiet.’

‘I’m fine, Dean,’ Cas promised. ‘I’m just …’

He couldn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t know what he was feeling, exactly. It was a mixture. He was still bummed about the fact that he needed to sleep now, yet curious about it at the same time, but most of him wanted to forget about it and brush it off because he knew it shouldn’t have seemed like such a big deal to him.

‘I’m fine,’ he repeated. He forced a smile. ‘Perfectly fine.’

He had to just forget about it. There was nothing he could do about it.

‘Can I take this outta here to read?’ Jody asked suddenly, pointing at the book she’d picked up curiously.

‘Yeah, sure,’ said Dean, nodding. ‘Take as many as you want.’

‘I’ll stick to this for now,’ Jody decided, closing the heavy volume and walking with it towards the exit under one arm. ‘I think I’ll take it into the living room and read for a while. You guys coming?’

Dean and Castiel glanced at each other, shrugging.

‘Perhaps we could watch some Grey’s Anatomy if Claire and Alex aren’t using the television,’ Cas suggested, seeming like he was becoming more like his usual self.

‘Works for me,’ Dean shrugged.

The trio headed towards the living room. The television wasn’t on and Claire and Alex were side by side on the couch playing a game of Would You Rather with the cards from Walmart. Jody sat in one of the chairs and opened the book at the start. Dean grabbed the remote and sat in the other chair and Cas settled himself in the third space on the couch.

‘Hey, Cas,’ Claire said almost immediately, grabbing Cas’s attention with both the use of his name and the fact that she usually called him by his full name but didn’t this time. ‘Would you rather have a third world war or an alien invasion?’

‘An alien invasion, definitely,’ Cas replied at once. ‘Humans war on each other in various ways every day, where the aliens might be friendly.’

Claire and Alex looked at each other, nodding.

‘Good choice,’ Claire commented. ‘Wanna pick a card?’

Cas looked at the deck she gestured towards the deck on the coffee table. He considered it for a moment and then thought something along the lines of ‘yeah, why not.’

Watching Grey’s Anatomy while playing the game was fun, especially when a question came up about having to pick either a lawyer or a doctor to be. Cas chose doctor, because he’d get to save lives, and Alex agreed but her reason was that cutting people opened seemed cool. Claire chose lawyer, because it meant she got to yell at other lawyers when going up against them in court.

The questions, as they went on, brought up some rather interesting debates and differences of opinions, which were often cut short by something extreme happening on the show that knocked them all into stunned silence momentarily before they could continue casually watching and casually playing at the same time.

Halfway through the first episode that played, Sam arrived with some of the first batch of cookies and left them on the table, answered one Would You Rather question and left. Castiel again considered going off to join the bakers, but decided to stay since now that he needed to sleep he wouldn’t be able to spend his nights watching Grey’s anymore and it was almost January and he needed to catch up on the show and he wasn’t even half way there yet.

The most horrifying thing to happen in the game was when there was a question: Would you rather be able to change into someone else or stay you? And Dean jumped in, jokingly saying he’d definitely rather be Meredith Grey so he’d get to have Derek Shepherd.

‘But doesn’t he die?’ Claire, a very casual and occasional viewer of the show, had asked.

‘WHAT?’ Cas shouted, staring from Claire to Dean and back again, then at the screen. Derek was actually on screen right now. ‘He can’t die. Tell me he doesn’t die – DEAN, TELL ME DEREK DOES NOT DIE.’

‘Oh god,’ Claire said clapping her hand over her mouth. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you’d know.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean said, grimacing. ‘He does.’

‘How?’ Cas asked, his mouth gaping. ‘When? Wait – no – don’t tell me. Actually, do tell me, so I can be prepared for it.’

‘Season eleven. The episode is called “How To Save A Life”. He gets into car accident and the idiot resident doesn’t give him a head CT and it’s too late before they realize and he just …’

Cas swallowed, staring at the screen again. Derek was still on it. He exhaled deeply and turned away from the screen, grabbed a card, and read out the scenario.

‘Sorry,’ Claire repeated.

‘Pick one,’ Castiel said firmly, completely ignoring the fact that he now knew of Derek Shepherd’s death.

They tired off the game eventually and Alex put the cards back on the shelf and went over it again. She pulled down Pie Face this time, grinning and put it on the table.

‘No,’ said Claire at once.

‘Come on.’

‘No way!’

‘But it looks so fun.’

‘What is that, anyway?’ Dean asked, looking at the box.

‘You put whipped cream on the hand and spin an arrow and it gives you a number,’ Alex explained, ‘and you twist this rod thing that number of times and hope it doesn’t make the cream hit you in the face. There’s a ton of Youtube videos of people playing it.’

Dean raised his eyebrows.

‘So basically you get hit in the face with cream?’

‘Basically, yeah.’

‘I don’t see a downside to that,’ Dean decided. ‘I’m in. I’ll get the cream.’

Dean ventured to the kitchen. There was something in the oven, some cupcakes being decorated, and still an entire bag and a half of flour and various other things to be used. (Dean and Castiel hadn’t been sure of measurements so bought a lot to be sure.) The place was a mess, but he paid no attention to it.

‘Come to join in, Dean-o?’ Donna asked cheerfully.

‘Nah, it’s not my thing,’ Dean said offhandedly. ‘Just need whipped cream for one of the games. And some paper towels,’ he added after the thought occurred to him, grabbing hold of the roll of kitchen roll on his way to the fridge.

‘Have fun,’ Aroura offered.

‘Thanks. Whipped cream in the face. A lot of fun.’

Dean grabbed a can of whipped cream from the fridge and made his way back to the living room, where the game was set up. He put the cream and the towels on the table.

‘They’re playing,’ said Alex, pointing at a reluctant looking Claire and a Cas that looked as though he was judging himself for agreeing to this. ‘Jody’s not.’

‘It’s messy and unnecessary,’ said Jody, without looking up from the book she was steadily making her way through.

‘It’s messy and completely necessary,’ Alex countered.

The coffee table was low, so they had to sit on the floor to play, which was an annoyance but not uncomfortable. A game of rock-paper-scissors face-offs determined who would be going first. Cas had asked the show be paused because playing this would make it difficult to follow what was going on in Grey’s at the same time, so Claire and Alex had taken control of the television and put Friends on in the background as some light, easy to watch comedy which Cas was instantly taken with. He made a mental note to watch that after he watched Grey’s Anatomy and continued and finished Gilmore Girls which he’d started with Sam.

Claire, ironically enough considering she didn’t want to play it, went first. She got a five and flinched every time she turned the stick, but she was safe. Next up was Cas, next to Claire. He got it with the cream on his very first twist. Dean started laughing so much that he found himself unable to breathe.

‘I don’t think I like this game,’ Cas said mildly, seeing unbothered by the cream on his face, as he reached for a paper towel.

Dean shouldn’t have been laughing so hard at Cas, because he went next and despite the fact that he got a number as low as two, one twist and he got a face full of cream. He licked his lips.

‘Yeah, I don’t like this game either,’ Dean agreed, grumbling. ‘Cream in mouth? Good. Cream in eyes? Fucking horrible.’

He didn’t back out, though. He wiped off his face and folded his arms moodily, now regretting what he’d gotten himself into. 

Alex got a two too, but she didn’t get a face full of cream. Claire was the one to get it now, on her fifth turn of the stick out of five. It would have been rude _not_ to laugh at the face she made, wordlessly pushing the thing away from her and grabbing a paper towel. Once she’d wiped off her face, she fixed Alex with a murderous glare. Alex had a shit-eating grin that wouldn’t be wiped off by a glare.

Cas escaped with three. Followed by Dean getting it in the face once again on his first time again. He sighed heavily. There was no point in getting angry with the fact that he had cream on his face; he’d been the one to say he was in.

Once again, Alex was cream free and Claire was creamed. Alex fell back against the couch and literally applauded the game, clapping her hands together while her laughter continued.

‘You rigged this!’ Claire declared, wiping off her eyes. ‘You rigged this to hit everyone but you!’

‘You literally saw me set it up!’ Alex said joyfully. ‘You know I didn’t rig it!’

Claire looked like she could have growled, but settled for wiping some of the cream off with her hand and shoving it in Alex’s face. Alex was no longer laughing after that.

Cas escaped for the second time in a row after turning the stick two times. Dean escaped too, after four. Alex escaped with five. And then Claire was hit yet again. She screamed in frustration and tossed her too-used paper towel at Alex’s face as she reached for a new one.

Cas escaped again with five. It seemed like the odds were now in his favor and when that thought crossed his mind he laughed internally at the sly reference his mind had made to the book he still had not finished reading but made a mental note to finish as soon as possible.

It slammed Dean in the face on his fourth twist and Dean, almost as frustrated as Claire was now, exclaimed ‘fucking fuck me!’ angrily. And then he glared at Cas as if it was Cas’s fault.

‘I don’t think that would be appropriate right now, Dean,’ Castiel replied to Dean’s exclamation disapprovingly. ‘But, you know, on the plus side, your face tastes like whipped cream now.’

Dean continued to glare despite the fact that Cas had done nothing wrong. Smiling innocently, Cas wiped a line of cream off Dean’s face with his finger and licked it off. That seemed to make Dean angrier, but at least he didn’t resort to wiping cream on Cas’s face like Claire had done to Alex.

‘I’m done with this game,’ Dean decided.

‘Okay, fine, this load of cream is the last,’ said Alex, looking smug about the fact she was the only one left who hadn’t been slammed in the face with cream.

Well, at least not until her second turn of the stick on her next go right after Dean.

‘I take back what I said about not liking this game,’ Dean decided. ‘ _Now_ it’s funny.’

‘This is my favorite game,’ said Claire, her contented sigh over-exaggerated.

‘I hate you,’ Alex sad bitterly.

They cleared up the game and as they did so, Jody concluded all talk of it with a ‘and _that’s_ why I didn’t get involved.’

It was blessing to throw the used paper towels into the unlit fireplace and get back onto seats instead of the floor and relax and watch the show that was on as it played, taking a break from playing games for now. A few minutes later and the three bakers joined them for a half hour break.

‘You’re not done?’ Jody asked, raising her eyebrows at them.

‘There’ll be no excuse to bake anything after Christmas is over so we need to use up as much of the stuff we have as possible,’ Sam shrugged.

‘Fair enough.’

Room as made for them to sit down. Claire hopped onto Alex’s lap immediately, Cas following her lead mostly by moving off to sit on the arm of Dean’s chair, leaving two spaces on the couch free for Donna to sit in one and Sam with Aroura on him in the other.

Friends was much easier to watch than Grey’s since the episodes were so much shorter and more lighthearted and truth be told, after hearing that Derek was going to die, Cas really needed a break to digest that information. The fact that the break came in the form of Phoebe Buffay, who Cas was instantly in love with, was an added bonus.

Like yesterday, Cas ended up slipping from the arm of the chair to Dean’s lap, only this time instead of sitting back against Dean, he hooked his legs over the opposite arm of the chair, leaned his shoulder sideways against the back of the chair and draped his arm over Dean’s shoulders.

Even after the break was over and there was an empty seat left, Cas didn’t move. Jody didn’t bat an eyelid, if she even noticed at all, and Dean spotted Alex whispering something to Claire and Claire nodding afterwards, looking impressed. Dean assumed Alex was telling her the thing he’d said last night about cowards or whatever it had been.

It was annoying how no one was questioning their seating positions. It’s like they thought they sat like this all the time, which clearly they didn’t. Or at least is _should_ have seemed clear. And even if those who weren’t usually around so didn’t know didn’t say anything, why wasn’t _Sam_ saying anything? It was becoming frustrating.

Still. They weren’t going to make it obvious. Weren’t going to go out of their way to flaunt the fact that _look at us, we’re together now, pay attention_. If they happened to do something that would make it obvious, then they’d do it when they had reason to or wanted to. Not simply to show off.

After one more episode, Claire asked, ‘could we play Head’s Up again? That was fun.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Alex, recalling. ‘Sam pretending to ski was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’

‘Now there’s a game I like,’ said Dean. He never watched The Ellen Show, but was lowkey an Ellen fan, so any game of her creation he’d probably play even if he didn’t enjoy it. And he had greatly enjoyed listening to Cas attempting to hum as many songs for Dean to guess as possible when playing the “Hey Mr. DJ” deck in the short time the rounds lasted.

‘That’s worth putting this down for,’ Jody agreed, closing the book and marking her page. ‘I’ve read the word “lycanthrope” so many times today it’s starting to look like it’s not even a word.’

‘I’m in too,’ Cas declared, swinging his legs over the arm of the chair so they were no longer hanging over it and he was now sitting upright, perched on Dean’s lap.

Yesterday, with eight players, they had ignored the rules of the game and played in pairs and whichever pair got the most things guessed won. This time, with five, they played by the rules; one guesser, all the others giving clues, whoever made the guesser guess it right got a chip and therefore a point.

Claire, being the one to have brought it up in the first place, was the guesser first. Category? Act It Out. The round was relatively easy; Dean caused her to guess golf, scared and changing a tire. Cas caused her to guess hammering by pretending to hammer a nail into Dean’s head. Jody got her to guess bungee jump and mowing the lawn, and Alex got her to guess Duck-Duck-Goose, shoveling the driveway, having a picnic and opening a gift. Since Alex had been the best at giving clues, she was now the guesser, describing Superstars.

There were a lot of passes in that round, but Dean was the best at describing them. He wasn’t great at describing Tina Fey, though, and shouted out ‘IN SLEEP WITH, MARRY, CRUISE, NIALL HORAN WOULD SLEEP WITH HER!’ and clapped his hand over his mouth which caused him to get some funny looks followed by a ‘how the hell do you know that?’ from Alex.

‘I … I heard it on the radio,’ Dean stuttered.

‘Did you really?’ Cas muttered into his ear.

‘Carpool Karaoke thing with James Corden,’ Dean muttered back. ‘Don’t judge me, okay? Their new album isn’t my usual style but it’s … it’s pretty good. And Harry’s hair …’

He fell silent. He was being given some odd looks coupled with smirks. He cleared his throat, said ‘anyway’ and grabbed a card from the Hey Mr. DJ pile. He got eight out of the sixteen cards he’d gotten the chance to pick up and Cas and Claire were the causes of his correct guesses four times each, so they competed in rock paper scissors to see who would be the guesser next. Cas got it, so grabbed a card from Dynamic Duos and off they went.

And so it went on, for almost an hour.

The only stopped because apparently all the baking had finally been done and because it was time for lunch, so that worked out pretty well. It was a little after 1:30 now and the group grabbed cookies and cupcakes that were laid out on plates like a buffet as they pleased; those who baked them had theirs as they started their cleanup of the kitchen, while the others brought theirs back to the living room. Again, though he had the option not to, Cas sat with Dean in the chair they had briefly vacated for their cookie-cupcake mission into the kitchen.

Friends continued not to disappoint. They were joined again by the bakers, no longer bakers now, when the kitchen had been cleaned up. The entire group together now, they watched the rest of the episode that had been playing when the former-bakers arrived, plus another two.

And then, Sam asked the room at large, ‘anyone for Twister?’

The room was too small for such a game, so they moved to the long tabled room and decided to play in teams of two. The pairings were automatic; Sam and Aroura, Alex and Claire, Donna and Jody, Dean and Castiel, in that order. Each pair was given the choice of both doing the same move or taking it in turns and doing different ones; Sam and Aroura chose the same ones, hoping doing the same thing would make it less difficult.

To start off, it was pretty simple. Left foot yellow, right foot blue. It got a little more uncomfortable on the third spin, where as well as left foot, right hands also had to be on yellow. The next spin was left hand red. Right foot green caused a very uncomfortable looking yet incredibly hilarious position where Sam was hovering right over Aroura and if he fell backwards, he’d fall right onto her shoulder. And then with left hand in the air, Sam fell forwards and that was that.

They decided on three rounds per pairing, so the second round started off with right foot green and left foot green. And right hand green. Instant loss.  Aroura couldn’t reach over Sam to get her hand onto the one remaining green spot without her feet coming off the mat, and so began round three the starting moves with left hand yellow, right hand blue, left foot in the air and then onto red, then yellow. As Sam placed his foot down, his sock (they had, of course, removed their shoes) slipped against the plastic and he fell over.

Their times were added and their average found and they were forced off the mat to make way for Alex and Claire and Alex’s right had on green and Claire’s right hand on yellow. Then it hit a purple, so Claire got to choose the move for Alex and decided on having her put her left foot on the farthest away blue that she could reach, therefore stretching right over Claire’s head. Alex managed it. Claire got left hand yellow. They got another purple, so Claire suggested Alex put her right foot on green, which seemed like an easy move, until Claire had to put her left foot on blue, made even worse by Alex getting right hand green. And then Claire fell over.

Round two started off with Claire’s left foot on blue and Alex’s on red. Claire’s left hand went to yellow next, then two spins ordered right hands on green. Alex moved her left foot to green after the next spin, Claire’s moved to red.  Alex had to put her left hand on green and Claire had to put hers on red. Alex’s right hand joined Claire’s left over on the red side, followed by their right feet having to move to green and blue respectively, causing Claire to fall forward onto Alex and that was the end of the second round.

They decided, for their third round, they would both make the same moves.

It started with right hand green and left foot green. And it was over on the third move, right foot red.

Their average time was better than Sam and Aroura’s, so Sam and Aroura were definitely not the winners.

Jody and Donna started off moving to the same places, the first three moves being right foot red and both hands blue. Next was right foot green, left hand red, right hand yellow. The position caused a hilarious (for those watching) outcome where Donna was pretty much sitting on Jody’s head in mid-air. Their first round was just one big disaster full of outrageous positions, the next of which caused Donna’s head to be between Jody’s legs, and when she tried to adjust her position, Donna fell. End of round one.

For their second round they tried out the taking it turns to make moves thing, which worked pretty well at first. They were mostly on opposite sides of the mat. Until they weren’t anymore, and Donna was bent in an upside down U shape stretching across the mat, Jody over her in the same position. After a pretty dangerous hand move from green to red, they were out of those positions, and so came round three.

They swapped back to both doing the same thing with their left hands on green, right on red, left foot blue, right foot red. The positions were mostly easy to hold until they had to move their left feet to red, and then put their right feet in the _air_ and it was over.

There average time was shorter than Alex and Claire’s had been. And finally, it was time for Dean and Cas to take center stage, taking it in turns.

Cas placed his left foot on blue and Dean placed his right hand on blue leaving one blue between the foot and the hand. Cas got right hand yellow, Dean right hand blue again, so he simply moved it one circle to his right. Cas got right foot red and Dean spun a purple, so Cas told him to put his right foot on red. Cas reached across the mat next to put his right hand on green, Dean stretching less to put his right hand on yellow. Cas had to put his other hand on green now and Dean had to move his red foot to blue. Cas moved his hand back to red, and Dean tried to move free foot to green … and failed.

Round two started with Cas’s left hand on yellow and Dean’s left foot on red, joined soon by Cas’s hand on the same color and Dean’s other foot and Cas’s other hand joining them too. Dean moved his left foot to yellow, Cas’s left hand on blue, followed by Dean’s. They were right up close to each other now, but nothing too awkward looking until Cas had to put his left hand on green and had to go under Dean’s arm to do it. Dean had to move his left foot to blue and Cas had to put his right hand on yellow, so both of his arms were stretched right around Dean’s arm that was on blue.

The round ended when Dean had to move his left foot to green but lost his balance when it was midair and collapsed right on top of Cas. They were laughing throughout almost the entire round.

The beginning of their final round had Dean’s left hand on yellow, Cas’s right foot on yellow and then Dean’s left foot on yellow too. Cas, in a rather easy move, moved his right foot onto blue, then a difficult one for Dean putting his right foot on red, which caused him to fall.

‘Well,’ Dean decided, getting up from the floor, ‘I never want to go through _that_ again.’

Their time beat Claire and Alex’s by two seconds exactly. Dean’s outlook on the game changed to ‘I knew we would win, what a great game’ after that as he held up his hand for Cas to high-five it. After their high five, way up in the air where it didn’t need to be quite that high of a five, they dropped their arms to land around each others’ shoulders making it look as though they’d planned that move and therefore making them look like a better team than they actually were.

‘So how about a rematch, if you two are so great?’ Alex challenged, her arms folded in a way that seemed almost menacing. She hadn’t taken losing by so little very well.

‘I would literally rather lay on a bed of nails,’ said Dean.

It had been fun, but more painful than Dean had thought it would be.

‘That’s what I thought,’ Alex replied coolly.

They took a well -deserved break after the Twister game, to watch another Christmas movie on Netlix. Sam was saving the Home Alone movies for actual Christmas Day. They watched All American Christmas Carol, after it sparked the interest of Donna, Claire, Alex and Aroura and then Cas, who knew the story of A Christmas Carol but thought a modern take on it would be fascinating. It was funny, rather than fascinating. It could have been better, but then again it could’ve been worse.

Castiel spent the entire movie with his arms around Dean’s neck and his forehead pressed against Dean’s temple. Dean had both of his arms around Cas too, one around his back and one around his front, his fingers locked together and against Cas’s side. They only let go of each other when someone, they didn’t pay attention to who, went to get snacks about twenty minutes into the movie and passed them around.

By the end of the movie, the way Dean and Castiel were still positioned and by the way they’d been muttering comments to each other throughout the whole movie, someone _had_ to have noticed something.

But they hadn’t. Or if they had, they didn’t let it show.

The fact that Sam hadn’t said anything was the most aggravating. What, did Sam think that just because they were taking a break from hunting and doing some normal stuff, that Dean and Cas had decided to sit together, holding onto each other, whispering together, just for fun? That they’d be back to how they usually were once the break was over and they were working again? Or was he just not paying attention at all?

While suggestions for what everyone wanted for dinner within the next hour or so were being made while they movie’s credits rolled, Dean had had just about enough.

He gave in. He kissed Cas, very deliberately and very obviously while Jody was asking Sam about places in the area that sold food, for all who happened to glance their way to see. Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s face and extended the length of the kiss, both of them ignoring the conversation going on around them until Dean heard his name being called by Sam and broke away, eyebrows raised.

‘Yeah?’

‘I was just thinking, that diner – do you think Jiffy Burger would be open today?’

Dean stared at him blankly. He noticed Jody and Donna exchange a mildly surprised look, but Sam looked completely unconcerned. What. The. Fuck.

‘What?’ Dean asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

‘Jiffy Burger, the place about fifteen minutes from here. Do you think it would be open?’ Sam repeated casually. ‘I know it’s not Christmas Day or anything, but some places close on Christmas Eve don’t they?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean said slowly. ‘Google it.’

‘Yeah, I think I will,’ said Sam, nodding in agreement. He pulled out his phone.

Dean turned back to Cas and raised his eyebrows. Cas looked as though he was torn between shock and amusement.

‘Seriously?’ Dean half-whispered to Cas, who shrugged. ‘ _Seriously_?’ he repeated, more loudly now so that the others in the room could hear. He was directing it at Sam.

‘Seriously what?’ Sam asked, looking up from his phone with a look of confusion as if worried Dean may be losing it slightly.

‘Seriously.’

‘… Seriously.’

‘ _Seriously_.’

‘Seriously.’

‘Seriously.’

‘Yeah, Dean, we get it. Seriously. Seriously _what_?’

Dean frustrated exhaled sharply through his nose and made a move that sent Cas the message that Dean was about to stand up, so Cas moved and allowed Dean to do so, then rose with him. Dean locked eyes with Sam, and then, even more deliberately then before, slowly turned, grabbed Cas’s face between his hands, and kissed him long and hard. He heard a giggle; it sounded like Aroura’s.

Dean’s hands were still on Cas’s face when he turned to look Sam in the eyes again.

‘Seriously,’ Dean said yet again.

‘Seriously _what_?’

Dean clenched his fists. His eyes widened. He looked livid, almost like he was about to attack, but instead he just grabbed Cas’s hand and started walking, Cas behind him, completely lost.

‘Come on,’ Dean said fiercely, as they tore through the room, ‘let’s go _fuck_.’

There was total silence in the room now apart from the fading footsteps of Dean and Castiel. Sam was suddenly too shocked to speak. Claire and Alex were both silently shaking with laughter. Aroura looked as though she wasn’t sure of what was going on. Donna was staring at the door with her mouth open. Jody was the first to speak.

‘Well … I assume that’s new.’


	18. Lipstick, Panties and Luke Skywalker

Once the door of Cas’s room was slammed rather harshly behind them, Dean sat down on the unmade bed and folded his arms, glaring at nothing in particular. Castiel stood by the door, watching him, waiting for him to explain exactly what was on his mind. Or get starting on that fucking he’d declared. Either one was good.

‘I can’t believe him,’ Dean said eventually, his voice full of annoyance rather than rage. ‘I can’t _believe_ him.’

‘Why not?’ Cas asked, frowning as he locked eyes with Dean.

‘He didn’t even … he didn’t even … he didn’t do anything! Or say anything! Not a word, not a twitch, he didn’t even _blink_ differently –’

‘Is there more than one way to blink?’

‘It’s like he doesn’t _care_. Or like … he already …’

‘Dean, he didn’t know.’ Castiel walked to sit beside Dean and look at him with soft features. ‘There’s no way he could have known.’

‘Then why didn’t say anything?’

‘Perhaps he just doesn’t have an opinion on the matter.’

‘He always has an opinion on everything.’

‘Perhaps he respects your privacy and doesn’t want to butt in.’

‘What privacy?’ Dean asked. ‘We made out right in front of him. In front of everyone. And no one said a damn thing.’

‘They may not have said anything, but it’s likely that they know that we’re in a relationship now,’ Cas said consolingly, placing a hand on Dean’s thigh. ‘Unless they think we just randomly decided to do what we did for no reason whatsoever. Or that we were making some … some stand about something.’

‘A stand about _what_?’

‘That movies are too heteronormative?’

‘Dude. Please.’

‘Or that we both decided at that moment to show our support for same sex relationships and chose to do so by participating in an activity that people in those relationships participate in.’

Dean closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking slightly. Cas’s smile at Dean’s reaction was quirky. Dean opened his eyes, shaking his head, starting to smile as he looked at Cas.

‘How dare you make me laugh when I’m trying to be pissed off.’

‘Dean, this is not a laughing matter. I’m being completely serious.’

‘You’re so not fucking serious,’ Dean told him, starting to laugh at Cas’s blank expression that he could see was teetering on the edge of breaking as Cas tried to stop himself from starting to laugh along with him. ‘Besides. I’m not sure us making out shows support for same sex relations when you’re not even an actual dude. You’re just a … a celeste something.’

‘A wavelength of celestial intent inhabiting an empty vessel which pretty much makes it my own body, which just so happens to be a male one.’

‘Yeah. That.’

‘Dean, I think you’re getting sex and gender confused,’ Cas told him. ‘We _are_ the same sex. We have the same reproductive organs and both present as males. I am not a sexless being, I’m a _genderless_ being who just so happens to conform to the typical expectations of males.’

‘Expectations …?’

‘You know. Not wearing makeup or skirts or dresses. Short hair. Unpainted nails. Not wearing colors such as bright pink or purple.’

‘Huh,’ said Dean, nodding. ‘Makes sense. But not true. Sam showed us all that picture of you in a dress, remember?’

‘That was _one time_ ,’ said Cas with a false dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes and removing his hand from Dean’s leg so he could fold his arms and turn away.

‘I’m not making fun of you or anything,’ Dean promised light heartedly, snaking his arms around Cas in an attempt to make him face him again. ‘You actually looked pretty hot. You _always_ look hot.’

‘Well, it is a fact that I am very attractive.’

Cas half-turned back towards Dean, smiling at the ground.

‘Exactly,’ Dean practically purred, tugging at Cas, forcing him to face him again. He pecked his lips. ‘And you would look hot,’ another peck, ‘in literally,’ another, ‘anything.’ A longer kiss this time. ‘So if you ever felt like painting your nails or putting on some vibrant lipstick that’ll leave its mark all over me, go right ahead.’

Cas laughed, the laugh stifled quickly by Dean’s lips on his again.

‘Dean, please,’ he said, pushing Dean off. ‘It’s obvious that _you_ would look better in lipstick. Your lips are perfect for it.’

Dean raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips into his old blue steel look, posing for Cas until a smirk crept in and he couldn’t hold the look.

‘You know what they call lips like these?’ he asked teasingly, and Cas shook his head. ‘They call them cock-sucking lips.’

Cas’s laugh sounded more like a scoff.

‘They do not.’

‘They do,’ Dean insisted. ‘Look it up.’

‘Later,’ Cas brushed off, pulling Dean back towards him where he’d pushed him off. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. ‘So that if it turns out you’re right, you can give me a demonstration proving exactly why they’re called that.’

‘Is that a promise?’

‘Yes, that’s a promise.’

‘Want me to get some lipstick too?’ Dean joked. ‘Get it all over your face and any other areas my mouth happens to go?’

‘If you want,’ Cas shrugged. ‘It doesn’t bother me either way. Now be quiet.’

Dean fell silent as commanded, grinning as Cas moved their faces closer together and –

Pulled back, dropping his arms with a sigh, because there was a knock on the door.

‘Who is it?’ Dean asked, glaring at the door as if it was the door itself that had interrupted them.

‘Me.’ It was Sam’s voice.

Groaning, Dean opened the door and blatantly asked, ‘what?’

‘It’s open,’ said Sam. ‘Are you guys coming?’

‘Did you not hear me tell you we were going to go fuck?’

‘Yeah, I heard. I thought you were just saying it to make a statement. Are you coming or not?’

Dean sighed, looked towards Cas, and saw Cas shrug.

‘Yeah, go ahead. We’re behind you.’

Sam nodded and left. Dean went back over to the bed but didn’t sit down. He kissed Cas one last time before Cas stood up too and they left the room together in search of Dean’s car keys. Dean seemed to be less angry now, more … just _done_.

‘I thought you’d be in a better mood now that we’re getting food,’ Cas said on their way to the car.

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dean muttered. ‘But what would Sam have done if we actually _were_ fucking?’

‘Think we _really really_ supported same sex relationships?’

‘Yeah. Whatever. Maybe.’

He lightened up somewhat on the fifteen minute drive to the burger-selling diner. They arrived just minutes behind the other two cars and the group got a large table together. No one mentioned Dean’s little outburst from before, or the fact that Dean kept glaring at Sam in between pouring over the menu even though he always got the same thing here every time he came.

Dean didn’t involved with conversation much after they ordered. He sat staring blankly ahead of him, holding Cas’s hand under the table and rubbing his thumb across his knuckles. Cas did get involved with the conversation, putting in a comment here, a laugh there. He felt Dean move their hands from under the table to on top of it, making it obvious their hands were joined, and wondered how exactly this was supposed to make Sam, or any of the others for that matter, mention anything if the making out in the living room hadn’t. He was wondering how long exactly it would take for Dean to snap.

It took a small smile and a ‘cute’ aimed at the joined hands from the waitress that brought their orders to do it.

‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’ Dean demanded, staring at Sam sternly.

‘I’ve been talking this whole time,’ Sam replied confusedly.

‘But why aren’t you _saying_ anything?’

Sam took a moment. He got it.

‘What’s there to say?’ Sam asked with a shrug. ‘It’s not like it’s anything new.’

‘What the hell are you talking about? Of course it’s new.’

‘No it’s not,’ Sam insisted. ‘Come on. I have functioning eyes, Dean. You’ve been in love with Cas for years. Everyone that gets within ten feet of you can see that.’

‘That’s not true!’ Dean protested, giving Sam a look that he’d give to someone who had started insisting the sky was bright yellow.

‘Yeah, it is,’ Sam corrected.

‘I was actually shocked when Jody told me you two _weren’t_ together,’ Donna chipped in. ‘The way you talked about him always made it sound like you were together. So I just assumed …’

The mixture of annoyance and anger Dean had been feeling was churning up and turning into an unsettling feeling of slight embarrassment.

‘Oh,’ he mumbled, clearing his throat, ‘well then … I’ll just …’

A false miniature coughing fit stopped him from having to finish whatever his sentence would have been and as soon as he’d finished faking it he let go of Cas’s hand, grabbed his burger and fell completely silent, purposely not making eye contact with anyone. Cas, on the other hand, looked around the table and caught the eyes of everyone and he, like them, tried not to laugh at Dean’s entire arc from the anger to the passive aggressiveness to this quiet bashfulness.

No more was said about it as they ate. They made some casual conversation. Dean still wasn’t talking and stayed out of it. He kept purposely bumping Cas’s knee with his own. Each time he did, Cas bumped back.

Dean didn’t talk again, besides thanking the waitress and chipping in with paying, until he and Cas were back in the car and Cas was the one to start it.

‘“I have functioning eyes, Dean,”’ he quoted.

‘Shut your mouth,’ Dean grumbled.

‘“Everyone that gets within ten feet of you.”’

‘Shut up.’ A pause, then, ‘has it really been that obvious the whole time?’

Cas didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head, considering it for a moment, thinking back over the years they’d known each other.

‘To me,’ Cas said quietly. ‘But I always thought I was seeing what I wanted to see while knowing that of course it couldn’t be true. You don’t allow yourself to love people. You can’t risk it. Because everyone you can’t help but let yourself love just …’

Cas was thinking of Charlie for the most part. She had been the most recent. He thought back too, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, people Cas himself didn’t know that well like Rufus Turner … he even thought about Meg. Everyone died in the end.

‘Including you and Sam,’ said Dean, knowing exactly what Cas meant. ‘But you two always come back.’

‘I don’t think death agrees with us,’ Cas said mildly, half joking and half serious.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Dean said with a chuckle, quickly falling back into his more serious self. ‘And that’s why I could let myself fall for you. Because no matter how many times you die, I always know that you’ll be back no matter what.’

Dean turned towards Cas. It was like hearts were radiating from his eyes. Cas knew that if he distracted Dean by kissing him they’d probably end up crashing, but kissing his cheek wouldn’t do any harm, which is what Cas did. It was warm. And scratchy. And beneath his lips, Cas could feel Dean’s face moving into a smile.

Cas was silent for a moment after he pulled away.

‘“I have functioning eyes, Dean.”’

‘I swear to your fucking father that if you say that one more time I’m shoving something into your mouth so you can’t fucking talk.’

‘Is that a promise?’

Dean frowned momentarily, not grasping what Cas was implying until he looked at him. Dean tittered, then made a snap decision and turned the car around. Cas frowned.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘Drug store,’ Dean replied.

‘Why?’

‘They sell makeup, right?’ Dean said with a raise of his eyebrows. ‘We’re going to get us some red lipstick. Oh! I just remembered this joke I read once.’

‘What’s the joke?’ Cas asked. He hoped the joke Dean had read was better than the ones he made up.

‘Right, so this guy goes to the doctor,’ Dean began. He’d read the joke in a book with three thousand jokes in it that he read cover to cover twice. ‘With a problem with his dick. He tells the doc it’s been looking pretty red recently so the doc tells him it get it out and he’ll have a look. So the guy whips it out and the doc has a look. Five minutes later, the doc tells him he’s good to go. The guy doesn’t have insurance and it’s not a free clinic, so he asks how much it’ll be and the doc says it’ll be five dollars so the guy pays up, shocked by how cheap it is and then tells everyone he knows. And one of his friends says he might head over there, cos his junk’s been looking a little funky too, but green, not red. So this guy goes and when he gets it out, the doc’s eyes widen and he goes, “you’re going to have to pay five thousand dollars and you’ll need surgery.” This guy is shocked, and he’s like, “but my friend was in here the other day and he says you fixed him up real quick for five dollars.” And the doc goes, “yeah, but he just had lipstick stains on his junk. You’ve got gangrene!”’

Cas had definitely not been expecting that. He laughed, his shoulders shaking, looking over at Dean and grinning at him affectionately.

‘See, those are the kinds of jokes you should tell all the time. That was funny.’

‘The opportunity rarely presents itself,’ Dean said, sounding disappointed. ‘Plus, they’re long. I could tell you a thousand long ones and a few one liners, but I never get the chance. I have to make up my own stuff on the spot. And, by the way, I can always tell when you’re actually laughing or just pretending to.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Cas assured him, ‘but I keep pretending to anyway because it seems to make you happy.’

They hadn’t driven far from the diner when Dean had decided to turn around and there were several pharmacies close by. Dean picked the one that looked like it was the one most likely to sell decent makeup and stopped the car outside. He and Cas got out and headed in, side by side.

The selection of makeup was pretty small, but it was enough. Dean was shocked by the prices of makeup and stared at it in horror.

‘Why the fuck is this shit so expensive?’ he asked out loud, not looking for an answer, as he looked at Cas. ‘Dudes are assholes for wanting chicks to wear this stuff. Why the fuck is it almost ten dollars for a fucking coloring pencil for your lips?’

‘Look at that,’ said Cas, gesturing towards a $20 mascara.

‘What the actual fuck?’ Dean huffed, staring at it in disgust.

Despite Dean complaining about the price, they did end up getting more than one lip color, plus some dark nail colors when Cas remembered what Dean had said earlier. They got a slightly odd look when paying, which pissed Dean off, but at least no one made any comments.

They drove back to the bunker and arrived back later than everyone else and immediately went to stash the stuff in Cas’s room. They headed off to the living room afterwards, assuming that was where everyone was and they had assumed correctly. Sam and Aroura were engrossed in a game of Star Wars Bop It on the couch and Dean was glad no one asked why exactly the thing was Star Wars themed. Dean had a passing thought that Charlie would’ve liked all the Star Wars branded games they got, considering that she had a tattoo of Princess Leia.

Jody, Donna and Alex were playing Sorry, two of them sitting on the floor around the coffee table and one on the couch, while Claire lounged in a chair watching Friends. Dean and Cas decided to do the same thing and sat together in the other chair.

When the game of Sorry ended, the three playing it extended an offer to both Dean and Cas asking if one of them wanted to be the fourth player. Castiel decided that he would like to play, so he clambered off of Dean and sat himself on the floor to join in the game. Dean watched fondly for a while, enjoying seeing Cas have fun.

When the episode of Friends that was playing ended and the next started, Claire crossed the room and sat on the edge of Dean’s chair. Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at her expectantly.

‘That was a nice performance earlier,’ she stated.

‘Well, you know, I do have the same amount of Oscars as Leonardo DiCaprio,’ Dean boasted jokingly.

‘Nice. Has Kate Winslet flashed you yet?’

‘Nah. But I’ve seen her rack in most of her movies, so close enough.’

Claire laughed. Dean grinned at her.

‘Such a subtle way to tell your brother you’re banging your friend. Well done.’

‘Thank you. I pride myself on my subtlety.’

‘What changed your mind about keeping it secret?’ Claire asked, tilting her head to the side in a Cas-like way.

Dean shrugged.

‘It just didn’t seem so bad once you and Alex knew about it.’

‘And it was too hard to keep your hands off him?’ Claire presumed with a smirk.

Dean chuckled.

‘Yeah, I suppose you could say that.’

Claire grinned.

‘I get it. It was like that with Alex at first.’

She looked over at Cas, then looked back at Dean. Then she looked at Alex. After a few seconds, she tore her eyes away, and asked, ‘feel like a game of Monopoly or something?’

‘Sure, why not,’ Dean agreed.

Claire hopped off the chair arm to get it. She poured over the shelf, her hand hesitating over the game when she spotted the one next to it and pulled it down.

‘How about this instead?’

It was Monopoly, but the Star Wars version.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Dean nodded.

Claire pulled it down and brought it over. She put it on the end of the coffee table closest to the chair Dean was in, sat cross-legged on the floor and began setting it up.

‘So, have you seen The Force Awakens yet?’

Dean hesitated.

‘I’m not into this stuff,’ he said uneasily. ‘It’s Sam. I got it because he’s into it.’

‘Lies,’ Sam said offhandedly without tearing his eyes away from his game with Aroura.

‘I hate you,’ Dean said bitterly. He turned back to Claire as she dealt with the money. ‘No, I haven’t seen it.’

‘Me and Alex went to see it earlier this month,’ she informed him. ‘It was good. Han and Leia are still adorable if you can look past some stuff that’s happened between the last movie and this one. Oh, and I saw a lot of people saying Carrie didn’t age well, but that’s crap. She’s beautiful. And she’s hilarious too. I follow her on Twitter,’ she explained.

‘She always was a looker,’ Dean agreed. ‘I don’t see why getting a little older would change that. So how was the movie? But no spoilers.’

‘Pretty good,’ Claire said approvingly. ‘There’s new characters. There’s these guys, Finn and Poe, and everyone says they’re totally gay for each other. I agree. And then there’s Rey. She’s _awesome_. There’s a lot of speculation about who her parents are. And there’s this guy, Kylo Ren, he’s the new villain, but I thought he was just misunderstood for a while until he did something horrible. Oh, and there’s this giant bad guy who looks like Voldemort. And that’s all I can tell you.’

Dean raised his eyebrows.

‘Well, now I _have_ to see it,’ he decided.

‘You should take Cas,’ Claire suggested, jerking his head towards him. ‘It’s better when you go with someone. It’s not as good alone.’

Dean nodded, considering it.

‘Yeah, I should. I’d have to get him to watch the original trilogy first though. At the very least.’

‘Oh yeah, totally.’

The game play started, and the conversation continued.

‘Did you know you’re actually a giant nerd?’ Claire asked, as casual as ever, rolling the dice. Dean’s eyebrows shot through the roof.

‘I am not,’ he declared. ‘If anyone’s a nerd, it’s Sam.’

‘I am not,’ Sam mimicked.

‘Sam’s like the book kind of nerd,’ Claire reasoned, ‘but you’re the pop culture kind of nerd. With your Star Wars stuff and that One Direction reference from yesterday.’

‘I don’t like One Direction,’ Dean said quickly. ‘I’d never listen to that basic ass crap. Give me AC/DC or Black Sabbath over them any day.’

‘Black Sabbath?’ Claire asked, perking up considerably. ‘I love them. _We_ love them. Right Alex?’

‘I’d be married to Tony Iommi right now if he didn’t have a dick,’ said Alex. ‘And wasn’t like, sixty.’

‘Amen,’ Dean approved. ‘Except neither of those things bother me. I was just destined to get stuck with that loser instead,’ he said, pointing at Cas.

‘Hey,’ Cas said, offended, frowning at him.

‘Just being honest,’ Dean shrugged, waggling his eyebrows playfully and grinning.

‘I hate you,’ said Cas, while shaking his head and smiling meaning he clearly didn’t mean it.  He half-regretted it as soon as he’d said it, even though he was just kidding, because he didn’t like saying those words to Dean since he’d been brainwashed to hate and kill Dean before. Thankfully, it had never worked, because the anti-hate had always been too strong.

‘Love you too,’ Dean said without thinking.

He wouldn’t have said it if he’d predicted all of the ‘awww’s that would follow from the others in the room.

‘Oh, shut up. Shut up all of you,’ Dean commanded, glaring around the room. He glared at Cas last, rapidly turning his glare into a slight quirk of the corner of his mouth and a wink at light speed before the glare returned as he grabbed the dice on the table for his turn.

Castiel felt his cheeks burn and a fluttery feeling in his chest ensued, causing him to stare down at the game he was playing while waiting for Jody to make her move.

After their game of Sorry finished, those playing it moved on to playing Cards Against Humanity, which Aroura joined in, while simultaneously paying Would You Rather with Sam. For such a small, sweet, innocent seeming person, Aroura really did have a filthy mind and was very good at Cards Against Humanity. They’d already found that out the day before, but she really had upped her game today.

‘So, I meant to ask this earlier,’ Dean said to Claire as they played their way around the board some more, ‘but how does Harrison Ford look in the new movie?’

‘Beautiful,’ Claire stated. ‘Glorious. Godly. As always.’

‘Excellent. So, talk to me. Why is this Rey you mentioned earlier so awesome?’

Claire jumped right into it. Alex chipped in enthusiastically too. It seemed like the movie would be pretty great. Dean, for once, openly and unashamedly discussed his passion for various things he never usually talked about with anyone, or at least hadn’t talked about up until he met Charlie, and hadn’t since Charlie either. Charlie actually ended being mentioned quite a few times, including the subject of her rather interesting tattoo. Cas mentioned his Charlie string doll once, of course clarifying (for Aroura’s sake) it was merchandise from those books based on that one report the Winchesters did that one time, and he also ended up mentioning the Dean string doll and joked that sometimes he preferred the doll because it was less annoying than the real Dean. Dean replied non-verbally my throwing a playing piece at Cas’s head. Cas, always the quick thinker, caught it in one hand and threw it back. Dean wasn’t so quick.

‘I ship it,’ said, Claire, after this interaction.

‘You what now?’ Dean asked.

‘You’re too old to understand,’ Claire replied.

Dean looked taken aback and a look of disgust came over him.

‘How dare you.’

Claire gave her most innocent smile. Dean was reminded strongly of Cas.

After Claire won the Monopoly game, Dean and Cas swapped places. Dean took Cas’s place in Cards Against Humanity where Castiel decided to defend Dean’s honor in Monopoly and win for him. As they went around the board, Claire pointed out the Star Wars stuff on the board and told Castiel things about them with him concentrating hard to memorize all of the facts being thrown at him. She made sure to complain about the fact that Rey wasn’t included in this game. Half way through their game they paused it, so Claire could look up some pictures and clips on her phone and show them to Cas.

That’s what led to all games being forgotten and the group marathoning the original Star Wars trilogy. Sam found a link online and hooked his laptop up to the TV, piles of junk food from the spectacular haul of several days ago were dragged in, some beers were brought in (for those over twenty one, of course … with the expectation of two beers, which Claire and Alex were allowed to drink one each of, because after all it was Christmas) and the opening crawl was up on the screen.

It took six and a half hours to watch them all, one after the other. It was after midnight when they ended and the incredibly worn out group decided to watch the prequels tomorrow, along with the Home Alone movies Sam had promised to show Cas. Tired as they were, none of them registered the fact that technically it was Christmas Day.

Cas had found himself getting sleepy towards the end of the third one but was determined not to let it show. He knew Dean could tell, but of course Dean could tell. Cas was right on top of him and their heads were resting together. But suddenly, the idea of sleep didn’t seem like such a horrible concept. Especially not when after the group parted he and Dean went into Cas’s room and the first thing Cas did was undress and crawl into bed, where it was warm and comfortable and where Dean joined him moments later.

‘Cock-sucking lips proof and demonstration postponed?’ Dean assumed, seeing Cas’s frowning tired face. Cas nodded.

Dean chuckled. Tonight he decided to lay on his back, so Cas could press up against his side and rest his head on his chest. Castiel wrapped one arm around Dean’s arm which was stretched out over the tops of the pillows and reached the other one out so that his hand was resting on Dean’s stomach, one of Cas’s favorite places on Dean.

‘Dean?’ Cas asked drowsily, just before he decided to allow himself to fall asleep.

‘Uh-huh?’

‘I love Luke Skywalker.’

Dean’s laugh was the last thing heard before Cas fell asleep.

Dean’s voice was the first thing Cas heard when prodded awake.

‘What?’ Cas complained, blinking up at Dean hovering above him.

‘That’s a nice way to greet me on Christmas Day,’ Dean said sarcastically. ‘Get your ass up. It’s Christmas Day.’

‘It was Christmas Day when we went to bed.’

‘It’s Christmas Morning.’

‘It was Christmas Morning when we went to bed.’

‘ _Get up_.’

Castiel threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, standing with his arms spread.

‘I’m up. Are you happy now?’

‘Get dressed.’

Raising one eyebrow at Dean, very tempted to against at Dean’s sudden demands, he picked up his Christmas Sweater from yesterday and put it on, then headed for his closet for jeans. Dean rushed across the room to stop him.

‘What _now_?’ Castiel asked.

‘Dude, no one gets fully dressed before noon on Christmas Day. Now come on.’

Dean already had a shirt on to make the journey to his room. Cas barely had time to put his slippers on first. He tugged Cas’s arm and Cas followed him towards the door.

‘For a man who has shown little to no enthusiasm for this day over the past week, you certainly seem to be excited,’ Castiel commented as he was dragged down the hall and into Dean’s room.

‘Presents, dude,’ was Dean’s explanation that was supposed to, and in fact did, clear everything up.

Dean tossed his shirt at Cas when he took it off and it hit Cas in the face. When Cas pulled it off, Dean was already pulling on the sweater of his own creation. It looked good.

‘You seem cheerful,’ Castiel observed.

‘I am cheerful,’ Dean attested. ‘That makes a change, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied. ‘Especially when you take into consideration the fact that it’s morning and mornings are when you’re at your grumpiest.’

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. Gotta piss. Wait here.’

‘I didn’t need to know that,’ Castiel called after Dean as Dean left him sitting on the bed as he headed out the door.

Dean wasn’t long, but it gave Castiel time to look fondly around Dean’s room. He had always liked this room. Especially the picture Dean kept by his bedside. Cas knew that the last thing Dean usually looked at before sleeping was his mother’s face in the picture and he knew that he’d been deprived of that for a while now; he made a note to perhaps suggest switching to sleeping in Dean’s room from now on, or for at least some of the nights, so Dean would no longer be deprived.

 When Dean got back the first thing he did was bend down and kiss Cas softly, grabbing both of Cas’s hands and pulling Cas to his feet. Cas stumbled against Dean slightly, putting his arms around Dean’s midriff to steady himself.

‘It’s Christmas,’ Dean said quietly.

Cas knew it wasn’t just a statement. He knew that Dean meant _it’s our first Christmas_ without him having to say the words. He always knew what Dean meant. Or at least now he always knew what Dean meant.

‘It’s Christmas,’ Cas agreed.

Their kiss was soft and slow, Cas pulling Dean closer, Dean’s hands on Cas’s upper arms. Dean fucking loved those muscular arms. Instead of pulling away and grinning at each other in a way that was disgustingly sweet, Dean pulled off when Cas wasn’t even done kissing him yet, escaped Cas’s clutches, grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him out the door.

They skipped breakfast and went straight to the long tabled room and were disappointed to find they were only the second and third ones up.

‘Where’s Sam?’ Dean asked Aroura, who was sitting cross-legged on a chair and typing something on her phone. It was unusual to see her and Sam apart since it seemed like they were joined at the … well, not hip, since their hips weren’t anywhere close enough to each other to be attached, but somewhere at least.

‘Snoring and sprawled out on his back,’ the snowman-patterned-robe clad Aroura told him, looking up from her phone. ‘Did you know your brother drools?’

‘Yeah, the guy could fill a bath tub,’ said Dean with a shudder. ‘I don’t know what you see in him.’

Aroura shrugged.

‘He’s tall and pretty.’

‘So are giraffes.’

‘Giraffes have shorter hair,’ Cas chimed in.

Dean snorted. Aroura nodded.

‘That’s true. They do.’

Dean, seeing Cas and Aroura exchange witty comments, suddenly became very aware of the fact that this was the first time he and Cas had been alone with Aroura since their first rather awkward meeting. Suddenly, circumstantially, all trace of Christmas Fever drained from Dean as he and Cas took two seats across from her.

‘Texting family?’ Dean asked.

‘Yeah, but not for reasons you’d expect,’ Aroura said, somewhat disappointedly, if this perky little person could even sound disappointed at all. ‘It’s all about work. Everything’s about work. The stupid world can’t take care of itself even for a _couple_ of days …’

‘Aren’t you a charity worker?’ Dean asked, frowning and looking at the frustrated Aroura as she glared down at her phone.

‘Oh … yeah …’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look. Dean knew he wasn’t alone in his feeling-weirdness about Aroura’s world-comment.

‘Damn it,’ Aroura muttered. ‘This guy I work with. He’s freaking out on me about these two guys who do the same job as us not doing it. Apparently this trouble making guy who’s been away for years is back and the guys who are supposed to deal with it are just … damn it, Carver …’

‘Charity work sounds like a complicated business,’ Castiel said evenly.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Aroura, a breathy and bitter sounding laugh accompanying her words, ‘it’s complicated. I went to Harvard for _this_?’ She still hadn’t looked up from her phone, nor had she stopped typing. ‘And some of Carver’s loyal guys did something stupid a few weeks ago and they just won’t let her g–OOD MORNING SAM!’

Dean and Castiel both looked around to see Sam arriving in his Christmas sweater and pajama pants.

‘Morning,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Morning, guys,’ he directed at the very confused looking Dean and Castiel.

‘Yeah,’ Dean muttered, ‘it’s morning alright.’

Sam sat next to Aroura and kissed her cheek while she hurried to put her phone away. It was incredibly odd to see Sam doing such a thing.

‘Others not up yet?’ he asked.

‘Not a soul,’ said Aroura. She was back to her usual, ultra-perky self. ‘I’ve been sitting here since eight. I was just about to say that if they’re not all up by nine thirty we should go and throw snowballs at them. We should also find a way to _get_ snowballs.’

‘There’s ice in the freezer?’ Sam suggested.

‘Throw any ice at me and you’ll lose your heads.’

Alex had arrived, in a black t-shirt and Christmas Tree covered pajama shorts.

‘It looks like your getting up has caused a chain reaction,’ Aroura chirped at Sam.

‘Looks like it,’ Sam agreed.

‘And Claire will be here in a minute. Feel free to snowball the snoozy sheriff sisters though.’

Dean snickered.

‘Nice alliteration,’ Aroura appreciated.

‘I know, right?’ said Alex.

Claire was not the one to come next, however. Donna was up next, in fluffy pjs with Rudolf on the top and baubles on the bottoms. Claire came after her, in a shirt that said “YES CHRISTMAS IS PUNK ROCK, WHY DO YOU ASK?” in deliberately printed untidy, white scrawl against the black, and black pajama bottoms patterned with white reindeer.

It was only another five minutes before they were finally joined by Jody, her black shirt featuring one large red bauble and her pajama pants covered in extremely fat Santas.

‘ _Finally_ ,’ was the morning greeting of many.

And at long last, present opening could begin.

The guests had all brought their gifts with them and placed them under the tree on their first day here, Aroura included. Aroura hadn’t known what to expect when she arrived, but she had brought cards for everyone after Sam had given here the names of all who would be there. Technically cards weren’t exactly gifts, but still.

Sam laughed himself silly at Dean’s gift for him. Jody and Donna were very happy with their candles and socks and selection of cop-related DVDs each. Claire and Alex were beyond excited by their gifts and declared that they were both going to wear one of the shirts each tomorrow, once the need for festive clothing was gone.

Dean and Castiel had placed their gifts to each other aside, deciding to open those last, after all of the joke presents and the Supernatural merchandise. The joke presents that Sam and Cas picked up at various stores on their trip consisted of the most random things, from ugly clothes to a hot pink stapler. It was all stuff they would never wear or use, but it gave them a laugh considering they’d actually forgotten what it was that they’d bought.

The Supernatural merch made Dean laugh a lot, since it was all for him owing to the fact that Sam and Cas already had all of theirs. His favorite was the pop vinyl of Cas as Steve. The last piece of merch, however, was one Sam had marked carefully when wrapping it. It wasn’t just random merch that was just for fun, this, as Sam made very clear to Dean, was Sam’s personal present for his brother.

It was the fucking Supernatural panties. Sam had stayed true to his word.

The pleasantly curious expression dropped from Dean’s face as soon as he’d opened the things. Part of him wanted to throw them at Sam’s face and call him a dick, but another part of him was working desperately hard not to start blushing as he remembered an incident from his past involving a pair of pink panties and Rhonda Hurley …

‘You know, just to spite you, I’m keeping these,’ Dean declared, placing the panties with his opened presents from Jody, Donna, Claire and Alex.

The gifts their guests had brought had been simple but nice; Dean was very happy with his four Swayze movies, one from each of them. Sam had informed Dean that he, of course, had told them of his guilty pleasure of Swayze flicks.

They’d gotten Cas some stuff relating to cute animals. There were two pairs of socks, one pair bee patterned and the other pair patterned with the various monkey emojis. There was a cute plush guniea pig too, plus a small cat figurine with wings and a halo that made Cas laugh out loud. That particular one was from Claire, who said, ‘I thought it looked like you.’

And Sam had gotten four different interesting books, since everyone knew Sam liked to read. He declared he’d put them on the top of his reading list.

And finally, Dean and Cas exchanged presents. Dean was thrilled with the three AC/DC shirts and used them to further prove to Claire that no, he was not a One Direction fan, and he was all about Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, that good old Highway to hell and the ever amazing Moneytalks.

And Dean had gotten Cas, much to Cas’s delight, some beanies from Hot Topic. There was one covered in alpacas, some Harry Potter ones to match those Harry Potter sweaters Cas had gotten himself on their shopping trip, one patterned with cute little narwhals and lastly, a Pikachu one that matched the Pikachu slippers that Cas had on. Cas pulled the Pikachu one on right away.

Dean’s explanation for the gift(s), which he admitted rather reluctantly in front of the onlookers as he tried not to blush, was ‘you looked cute in those Supernatural beanies.’ Then, like the casual ‘love you too’ from the day before, was met with the ‘awww’s of the others.

‘Shut up,’ Dean grunted at them, then asked, ‘is it too late to get back in the closet?’

‘I’m afraid so, Dean,’ Cas replied, sighing theatrically, making fun of him.

Cas turned to the side where Dean was sitting next to him and they shared a kiss, met with applause and a wolf whistle. Dean pulled away to shout an annoyed ‘I HATE ALL OF YOU’ at them.

Dean, who was a pretty good cook, made them all pancakes for breakfast with Cas as his glamorous Pikachu-headed-and-footed assistant, and after breakfast they all headed off to get dressed. Dean made a stop in Cas’s room after changing in his own, where he had a little surprise for Cas and lowered his jeans slightly to reveal he was wearing the Supernatural panties that everyone assumed he’d throw in a drawer and forget about.

‘You’re wearing woman’s underwear?’ Cas said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Dean grinned at him and moved his eyebrows up and down. Cas frowned. ‘I don’t know why I’m suddenly aroused by this.’

‘Because panties are hot,’ said Dean suggestively. ‘And men aren’t “supposed” to wear them so it’s taboo. Now come on, we’ve got Star Wars prequels to watch. And if you think they suck like a lot of people do, don’t say anything, because I like them, okay?’

Cas nodded.

They headed off to the living room together. Castiel couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Dean’s ass, as if searching out some sign that would reveal what underwear Dean had on, but he found nothing.

Once in the living room, they discovered Sam complaining about the fact that he didn’t get to watch the rest of the Star Wars stuff with them because he had to make Christmas dinner, but Aroura made him feel better by saying she’d sit out too and help him cook instead. Dean had completely forgotten Christmas dinner and the thought of it later excited him.

So two people short and feeling festive, it was time to continue the Star Wars marathon. Watching these movies was going to take a whole seven and a half hours, but at least it gave them something to do for the day, with the promise of Home Alone movies that night. Christmas dinner wouldn’t be served until after they’d finished watching the Star Wars movies, but a junk-medley kept them going until then.

It felt like they’d been watching Star Wars forever by the time the movies ended, and it was 7pm when they did. With the Star Wars theme stuck in their heads, the group headed to the long tabled room which was where they would eat their Christmas dinner. 

Sam had really done himself proud with this; the turkey was cooked to perfection as was everything else. When complimented on it, Sam tried to put the credit on both the internet videos and recipes he’d followed and on Aroura.

It was almost surreal for Dean to be a part of this. He hadn’t had a real Christmas dinner since he was three, he assumed at least and he didn’t even remember that one if it had happened, and he knew for a fact Sam had never had a Christmas dinner and neither had Cas. And even though it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t the most traditional of gatherings and they knew that the holidays would soon be over and life would be all about ghosts and monsters again, it was honestly as damn close to perfect as Sam, Dean and Cas were ever going to get.

There were plenty of leftovers to have the next day and they were all extremely full when they headed back to the living room for Home Alone one and two. Castiel liked the second one the best and he did find the movies very funny. When he heard the line that was written on the back of Dean’s sweater, he looked at Dean gleefully and ran a hand over as much of Dean’s back as he could considering his back was pressed against the back of his chair.

The group split up and went to bed after the movies ended. As soon as the door to Cas’s room had shut behind them, Cas grabbed the bottom of Dean’s sweater and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the side without a care. He ran his hands up and down Dean’s sides once before opening Dean’s belt and pushing his jeans down before Dean had even gotten the chance to remove his shoes yet.

‘Impatient, aren’t you?’ Dean teased.

‘I’ve been waiting all day,’ Castiel stated, ‘I’ve been patient enough.’

Dean’s jeans were still around his ankles as Castiel started to gently squeeze him through the snug-fitting cotton panties covered in sigils from devils traps to angel warding used to banish angels. Thankfully this warding would never stop Cas. Castiel left go of Dean to go and fetch the lipstick, giving Dean time to kick off his shoes and step out of his jeans and pull his socks off. Castiel got the brightest red shade of lipstick they’d bought and opened it up as he slowly approached Dean.

Dean was smirking and stood perfectly still and allowed Cas to put the lipstick on him. Dean had never expected to ever wear lipstick unless it had rubbed off from someone else, but here he was. And he liked it. He liked it a lot.  He especially liked it when he kissed Cas with it on and once they’d pulled apart Dean could see lipstick marks on Cas’s lips.

Dean pushed Cas away from him, towards the bed and followed Cas’s backwards footsteps. Cas allowed himself to fall back as soon as he felt the backs of his legs against the bed and watched Dean get on his knees at the side of the bed and start pulling the clothes off of Cas’s lower body. Once he was naked from the waist down, Castiel spread his legs to allow Dean in between them, still on his knees on the floor. Like on Cas’s lips, Dean left lipstick marks on Cas’s inner thighs.

‘We didn’t get to look it up, but _this_ is why they’re called cock-sucking lips,’ Dean announced, right before he went down on Cas much more enthusiastically and nowhere near as slowly as he had the first time he’d done this with him.

Since Dean hadn’t bothered ridding Cas of his sweater, Dean slid his hand under the sweater instead, rubbing circles here and there, feeling how Cas breathed, how his breath hitched occasionally and how he moved.

When Cas was close to climaxing, he grabbed Dean’s head and pulled it up, though reluctantly. He sat up and Dean rose to his feet, Cas following his lead, pushing Dean onto the bed now, face down. He pulled his own sweater off, grabbed the lube and made quick work of preparing Dean and opening him up, his panties only pulled down to the tops of his thighs. When he fucked Dean, he came quickly, having already built up to his point of orgasm.

Cas pulled Dean’s panties back up and climbed onto the bed, laying back feeling satisfied, leaving Dean still face down until he had recovered from the fast, hard fuck to get up. He positioned himself over Cas, a knee either side of Cas’s hips, pulled himself out of his panties and started jerking himself off over Cas’s chest, Cas watching, his hands now on Dean’s hips, kneading the flesh with his fingers and thumbs.

Watching Dean was incredibly erotic. This time, it was Cas who re-hardened with Dean on top of him and Dean was the one to notice it. He smirked to himself and shuffled backwards while continuing to jerk himself, teasingly rubbing his ass against Cas’s dick. Cas bit his lip. Using the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his own dick, he pulled the back of his panties down again, pulled his ass cheeks apart, briefly slipping a finger inside himself and curling it upwards. Making sure he was still wide open enough, he proceeded to sit with Cas’s dick inside him and slip his finger back out again, starting to move up and down and rock back and forth, timing his movements with the movement of his hand on himself.

When he’d reached his boiling point Dean came shamelessly all over Cas’s chest and stomach. He continued to ride Cas until Cas came again. Dean found himself wondering exactly how many times angels could come in a night, like actually come, not just orgasm without blowing a load. It was probably unlimited, he speculated, taking into account that the amount they, or rather Cas, could eat without getting full seemed to have no limit too it where humans eventually got full.

Dean lifted off Cas, pulled his panties up and collapsed onto the bed next to him, satisfied and casual.

‘We should’ve brought in a cloth or something,’ he commented, giving Cas a once over. ‘You’re covered in lipstick and … stuff.’

‘Yes, we should have,’ Cas agreed. ‘Your lipstick has speared all over your general mouth area. You look vaguely clownish. Perhaps in the future we should look for lipstick that doesn’t smear or smudge.’

‘But then I wouldn’t be leaving any marks on you, so there’d be no point.’

‘That’s a valid point.’

Castiel rose from the bed and went to his closet. He tossed a pair of pyjama pants at Dean and pulled on a pair himself. Cas went to the door and stuck his head out, making sure the coast was clear, before he gestured for Dean to follow him. Like the night before last, they headed for the bathroom and upon arrival, unlike last time, Castiel didn’t even consider the sink an option and went straight for the shower, Dean following his lead.

This shower was less intimate than the last and they spent less time in it. Castiel used his thumbs and the water to wipe away the small amount of lipstick still left on Dean where this time Dean was the one soaping Cas up and washing him off, being a little, the only word to describe it, “naughty” with it. Instead of just washing off Cas’s chest and stomach, he lingered, trailing soapy fingers over the muscles and then around Cas’s nipples while smirking. When cleaning off Cas’s mouth area, he ran his fingers across Cas’s lips repeatedly and circled them too, soon replacing his fingers with his lips and tongue, giving Cas’s bottom lip an audacious series of little licks. The washing off of the lipstick marks on Cas’s dick turned into a lot of long, slow strokes, followed by Dean stopping completely when Castiel started to get semi-hard again.

Cas gave Dean a withering look. Dean replicated the look of innocence Cas used on him so often. Cas countered Dean’s actions by shoving Dean harshly against the slippery shower wall and kissing him and grinding against him until he too was not as soft as he used to be, then he stepped out of the shower, grabbed Dean’s towel and began to dry off, leaving Dean under the splashing water with his back against the wall and a half-dazed expression as he followed Cas with his eyes.

Dean didn’t turn the water off and step out of the shower until Cas had dropped the towel on the floor and pulled his pyjama pants back on. As Dean grabbed the towel and began drying himself, Castiel turned wordlessly to the door and headed for it. Dean followed, stopping him by grabbing his waist from behind and forced him to turn around.

Dean kissed him violently.

‘You’re a little asshole, you know that?’ he growled.

‘You started it,’ Castiel replied placidly, removing Dean’s hands from him and continuing towards the door.

He left, leaving Dean standing in the bathroom naked, half wet and alone.

Castiel, seemingly not tired tonight, was reading in bed when Dean arrived and peeled back the covers on the other side. Castiel looked at him.

‘Take the pants off,’ he instructed at once. Dean followed the order, leaving him standing in nothing put the panties again. ‘Okay. Continue.’

Dean climbed into bed and lay on his side, facing Cas.

‘How’s the book?’ he asked.

‘Good,’ Castiel replied.

‘Wanna fuck?’

‘It’s late, Dean. Twice in one night is enough.’

‘No it’s not.’

‘Then ask again later.’

‘You just _said_ it’s _late_.’

‘Be quiet, Dean,’ said Castiel, turning a page.

Dean watched Cas in silence for a while.

‘Read to me?’ he requested. Truthfully, he was getting weary, but it seemed like he and Cas had some kind of game to play and he wasn’t about to be the first one to drop out.

Castiel sighed, looking at Dean’s still moderately smug face, and began reading out loud mid-sentence, incredibly fast in a monotone, the way he read it in his head. Seeing Dean out of the corner of his eye failing to grasp most of what was happening as Cas read was pleasing.

‘Stop,’ Dean said, before Cas had even read out a full two pages. ‘Just stop. Come on. Let’s watch some Grey’s if we’re not fucking.’

Castiel paused. They hadn’t watched any all day. He shrugged, nodding as he closed his book, causing Dean to grin and search for the remote and get the show on screen pretty fast. They continued from where they’d left off the last time in the living room and Dean made himself more comfortable by nestling himself into Cas’s side with Cas’s arm around him.

Castiel found himself pleasantly alert throughout the whole episode. He soon forgot about the fact that he and Dean had been in the midst of teasing and annoying each other sexually since the shower and even forgot about the fact that Dean was wearing nothing but a pair of panties, and before he knew it Dean had dozed off against him and it was four o’clock in the morning and he still wasn’t tired. Nor was he tired when Dean awoke around nine and asked if he’d been out for the whole night or just an episode or two.

Cas was no longer in need of sleep.

He couldn’t describe the relief he felt if you paid him to.

‘The whole night,’ Cas answered gleefully. ‘And I didn’t sleep, Dean. I didn’t need to. I’ve been able to spend the whole night watching this and trying not to think about the eventual death of Derek.’

‘Seriously?’ Dean asked propping himself up on his elbow and looking at Cas, looking a mixture of shocked and impressed. ‘And you’re not even ...?’

‘I’m not tired, nor do I feel in any way different to how I’ve felt since waking yesterday morning. I’m not completely sure I understand why, but I’m glad to be back to normal.’

‘Well, if you’re glad, I’m glad,’ Dean said with a grin. ‘So, breakfast? I’m starving.’

‘Me too,’ Cas agreed, suddenly becoming aware of the rumbling in his stomach to support his statement. _Oh fuck_. ‘Dean …’

Dean noticed the suddenly grave way in which Castiel said his name. Dean felt a phantom plummeting sensation inside himself.

‘You’re not just saying that because you _want_ to eat, are you?’

‘No.’

Cas’s relief that he didn’t have to sleep was gone now, replaced by both the hunger and the unsettling feeling that accompanied it. He hadn’t liked being hungry when he was human; he certainly didn’t fucking like it as an angel.

‘Maybe you’re just … used to eating,’ Dean said uneasily. ‘So your body thinks it’s hungry.’

‘No, Dean,’ Castiel replied, shaking his head. He had to, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. ‘I’m definitely hungry. The “I need to eat something or I’ll eventually die” kind of hungry.’

Dean looked away, sighing, unable to meet Castiel’s eyes.

‘Then I guess we should eat,’ he muttered, slowly getting out of bed. ‘Maybe it’ll be like the sleeping thing. Maybe it’ll go away.’

‘Maybe,’ Cas said reasonably, ‘but whatever’s going on, I don’t like it.’

Cas followed Dean’s lead and got out of bed, ready to start the day, unease in his stomach as well as a need for sustenance.


	19. Call on Carver

Dean made pancakes again this morning, Castiel helping him again, but rather gloomily. Many of the others asked him if he was okay and he shrugged. Dean, who had Cas’s back as usual, told them all Cas had spent the whole night watching Grey’s Anatomy (not actually a lie) and was thinking about Derek dying. No more was said on the subject.

Their guests, excluding Aroura, were supposed to be leaving today, but at the suggestion of both Claire and Alex, Jody and Donna went to make some calls to see if they could swing some extra time off to stay until the New Year. Of course the original bunker trio didn’t mind, they didn’t mind one bit and liked having some extra company, since they probably wouldn’t get to get back to work until January anyway when Aroura left.

Castiel, like when he’d discovered he needed sleep, was very quiet. He sat at the long table and ate with a blank expression, completely distanced from the conversation and the cheerfully flashing Christmas Tree. He perked up slightly when it turned out that yes, their guests could stay until the New Year, but fell straight back into his slightly-dazed slow-eating blankly-staring thing when that happy news had died down. After several minutes of dull, robotic movements, he allowed himself to fall against Dean slightly, outwardly appearing like he was simply bored and enjoyed leaning against Dean. Dean, feeling bad for Cas, put his arm around him and rubbed his back.

Dean volunteered to do the dishes after breakfast, volunteering Cas to help. The expressions on the faces of the others showed that they didn’t think it was anything suspicious that Dean kept finding excuses for him and Cas to do small, unimportant tasks together; they just assumed it was the whole thing of them being newly _together_ together and wanting to spend as much time as possible together. Sam and Aroura sure seemed to be like that anyway.

If only that was the case with Dean and Castiel.

There was even silence between the two of those as Dean washed and Cas dried and put away. Dean kept shooting Cas worried and sympathetic looks, knowing that being hungry honestly wouldn’t have been that big of a deal to most, but to Cas, an angel who had lost his grace, lived for a time on stolen grace and almost died, to be feeling like his own grace was weakening event though there was no reason for it to be, that was a pretty big deal.

‘Hey,’ Dean said softly, when the last of the clean dishes had been put away, ‘why not find an excuse to get out of here for a while? And give you some time to … do whatever.’

Castiel shrugged.

‘A distraction would be nice,’ he muttered reasonably. ‘To … not think about it.’

‘Well the shops are back open today,’ Dean suggested, ‘or at least some of them are. And we’re running low on some stuff. We could volunteer to shop … unless buying food would make it worse.’

Castiel shook his head quickly.

‘No,’ he murmured distractedly, frowning at his feet, ‘I think shopping to fulfil the needs of others will be a decent distraction.’

‘Then we’ll get everyone to make a list of crap they need or want,’ Dean decided. ‘And we’ll go to Walmart. It’s an hour away and it’s got more stuff than the normal grocery store. It’ll keep us out longer.’

Castiel nodded.

‘Thank you, Dean.’

He was starting to look a little better. He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he looked pleased.

‘See, it’s already working,’ Dean said with an approving look. He clapped Cas on the shoulder and then gave his cheek a small pat too. ‘Now let’s go ask if anyone needs anything.’

‘Perhaps we could ask if anyone would like to come with us and look for themselves,’ Castiel suggested.

‘That’s the spirit,’ Dean commented, lazily throwing his arm over Cas’s shoulders as they left the room in search of the others. ‘You’re in a better mood already.’

‘You tend to have that effect on me,’ Cas replied, putting his arm around Dean’s lower back.

‘That’s good to hear. Usually I have the opposite effect on people.’

‘Dean, that’s not true.’

‘Yeah, well, you’re biased. You don’t get a say in this.’

Cas smiled. Dean beamed at him and tightened his arm around his shoulders.

The rest of the group were still where they left them, all talking to each other about something or another. Claire and Alex (both wearing Black Sabbath shirts) were now sitting either side of Aroura as she showed them something on her phone, which turned out to be pictures of her dog dressed as Shrek. Sam was telling Jody and Donna about some of the weirdest things he’d overheard on police radio. Dean cleared his throat, causing everyone to look at him.

‘Cas and I are heading to Walmart to pick up some stuff. If anyone wants anything, give us a list and we’ll pick it up. And if anyone wants to come, feel free.’

‘Could I come?’ Claire piped up. ‘I like wandering around Walmart. It’s got some cool stuff and a lot of weird people to try not laugh at.’

Dean looked at Cas, who was nodding.

‘Sure. It’s an hour away, just so you know,’ said Dean.

‘I’ll bring my phone and some headphones,’ said Claire. ‘Alex? You coming?’

‘Not after last time we went to a Walmart,’ Alex said distastefully. ‘There was a kid eating raw potato and his mom wasn’t wearing a shirt. And she had this tattoo …’ She shuddered. ‘I’ve had enough of Walmart people for the next century, thank you very much.’

It was hard to laugh, at least a little bit, at the image and at Alex’s obvious repulsion.

‘I’m getting my headphones,’ Claire announced, standing up. ‘And that picture is super cute,’ she added, gesturing the picture on Aroura’s screen.

‘I’m getting a book for the drive,’ said Cas, following her.

‘I’ll take orders,’ Dean said, somewhat jokingly. ‘Anyone?’

There were some requests which Dean did his best to memorize. He was ready to leave as soon as Cas and Claire had returned to the room ready, he tore his eyes away from the dog and plush donkey that was forced upon him (not that he was complaining about being made look at it) and headed out to the Impala.

‘You guys don’t mind me tagging along, do you?’ Claire asked as she got into the back seat of the car.

‘No, of course not,’ Castiel assured her. He was definitely in a better mood.

‘The more the merrier,’ said Dean.

‘Great,’ said Claire, setting up some music on her phone and putting one earbud in. ‘By the way, I don’t think I’ve ever said, but I really like this car.’

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked, his eyebrows shooting up as the pulled out of their parking spot.

‘Yeah. I looked it up, once. The model. It’s stupid that they made the nineteen ninety version so ugly, and don’t even get me started on ones from this year.’

‘Really,’ Dean said, more of a statement than a question. Castiel had his eyebrows raised at both of them. ‘So you like cars?’

‘Some are pretty cool,’ Claire said with a shrug. ‘Mostly vintage ones though. A lot of cars started to get really ugly after the eighties and looked best in the sixties and seventies … but there’s some that look good these days too. Jeeps, mostly. And some sports cars. But not the perky kind that the rich and popular kids drive to school, just the regular kind. And some race cars are pretty cool too.’

This had taken an unexpected twist.

‘Got any favorites?’ Dean asked curiously.

‘A few,’ Claire said casually. ‘I like Ford cars. The falcon looked good in the sixties but looks pretty standard now. The fiat wasn’t so great in the old days and they don’t look as good as vintage falcons now, but they’re not the worst looking car in the world. The focus was best in the sixties but it’s one of those annoying, flashy but boring ones now.’

‘Any others?’

‘The Mercedes SUV looks good nowadays, but looked better in the nineties. Octavias are okay looking now. Beatles always looked good. The BMW I-eight is one of the modern and kinda flashy ones that look their best now. And I like pretty much all jeeps and mini-vans.’

Dean nodded. Cas was listening with moderate interest. He didn’t know what half of those cars looked like. Or hadn’t even heard of them.

‘What do you think of the nineteen seventy Chevy Chevelle?’ Dean asked.

‘I’ve never seen it,’ Claire admitted. ‘I’ll look it up later. And just FYI, I should mention, I’m basing this on what they look like. I’m not a car expert or anything, I just like ones that look cool. It’s just an aesthetic thing.’

‘Yeah, I get it,’ Dean agreed. ‘Sometimes it’s better to look and leave it at that. If you find out a really great looking car is actually a piece of crap it’s like … finding out a really hot person is the dullest person on the planet. And no, Cas, I don’t mean you,’ Dean added, seeing Cas’s brows lower minimally.

‘I know,’ Cas clarified, ‘I was just thinking of how unpleasant that would be.’

Every so often as they passed a stray car on the relatively empty roads, Dean would ask Claire what she thought of it and vice versa. When they asked Cas what he thought, he always shrugged saying he didn’t have an opinion and that they all looked the same to him but different colors, preferring to read his book rather than take part in the car-talk.

‘You have no standards,’ Dean muttered after Cas’s comment.

‘Clearly,’ Cas said feistily, ‘since if I had standards, there’s no way I would ever even consider the possibility that I may perhaps one day even consider thinking about being in any form of non-platonic relationship with you, Dean.’

Dean frowned at him. Claire started laughing. Once Dean had gotten past all the layers in Cas’s statement, he glared at him, then stared straight ahead.

‘I liked you better before you started making jokes,’ he muttered bitterly. ‘Go back to the times where making jokes would have been uncharacteristic. You were nicer then.’

‘If I recall correctly, you once said you weren’t trying to change me,’ Cas teased. ‘So if that statement is true, I would advise you stop trying to erase my character development, because that is equal to you attempting to change me.’

‘Don’t bring past me into this,’ Dean grumbled. ‘If he knew then what I know now, then he wouldn’t have said a damn thing.’

‘You’re just jealous that the jokes I make are better than the ones you make,’ Castiel said smugly.

‘Go eat a whole bag of dicks,’ Dean muttered.

‘This is the gayest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life,’ said Claire.

Cas continued to keep that smug look for several minutes after they’d fallen silent and every time Dean glanced at him he was torn between staying pissed off because of the asshole-ish comments and crying in adoration because fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ Cas looked so fucking cute when he had that pleased-with-himself look.

When they got out at Walmart they grabbed a cart and went inside, throwing in the essentials with ease as they passed them, Dean making sure he recalled everything people had requested. The trio walked down every aisle and looked at stuff on every self, a lot of useful things, balanced out with a lot of weird looking stuff, pointless gadgets and various other items. Thankfully, they didn’t run into any of the odd Walmart people that seemed to be a big thing on the internet, that Claire told Dean and Castiel about as they walked around.

‘I’ll show you pictures when we get back,’ she promised.

Coming up with uses for a lot of the weird looking things that looked completely useless was another fun thing to do as they made their way steadily through the store. Dean offered a lot of the weird shit to Cas, suggesting he get it, with comments like ‘you’re weird, right?’ and ‘you’re weirdly smart, you’d find a way to use this’ and most of the time it was the most ridiculous looking object that you could possibly fathom, or sometimes a very ugly decorative ornament.  

Dean stopped the comments when, as they passed by those cage-like contraptions filled with balls, Castiel reached in and threw one at Dean, so it bounced off of Dean’s head, onto the ground and rolled away behind them.

‘Are you two ever going to stop throwing things at each other?’ Claire asked.

‘No,’ they replied at the same time.

‘Not as long as Dean keeps being an asshole,’ Castiel said curtly.

Claire giggled.

‘I like you two when you’re together.’

‘Oh, don’t we all,’ said a random voice with an English accent behind the three of them. ‘And Walmart? Really? At least have some self-respect and go to a Target.’

They stopped in their tracks. They slowly turned around, facing away from their cart, Claire not knowing who this was or what the big deal was, to come face to face with Crowley. Crowley looked casual as ever, pushing his own cart filled with stupid, every day things like milk and bread and eggs.

‘Hell running low on supplies there, Crowley?’ Dean asked, folding his arms and already standing in a defensive manner.

‘Oh, you know,’ Crowley said with a casual shrug. ‘The holidays tend to get busy. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa. You know the drill.’

‘Uh huh,’ Dean said, not listening, ‘what do you want?’

‘To compliment the angel on that excellent sweater and beanie combination. Harry Potter? Classic. And, hello,’ he added, nodding at Claire, ‘the name’s Crowley. King of Hell. I’ll just assume these two have told you all about me.’

Claire hesitated.

‘… No.’

‘Really?’ Crowley asked, his eyebrows raised. ‘How rude of them.’

‘What do you want, Crowley?’ Castiel demanded.

Crowley sighed.

‘I had some information for you,’ he said seriously, looking at Dean and Castiel in turn. Then, he relaxed, folding his arms. ‘But, I can see you’re busy with a little family outing, so I suppose it can wait.’

‘We know you’re in The First Book, if that’s what you mean,’ Dean informed him. ‘We tried to call you. You didn’t pick up.’

‘I was busy,’ Crowley said, unbothered. ‘And I assumed you’d figure it out. But this isn’t about me being in the first book. This is about someone else in the book.’

‘Who?’

‘Emma.’

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. Claire leaned into Cas and whispered, ‘what’s The First Book?’

‘It’s complicated,’ Castiel whispered in return. ‘Believe me, you don’t need to know about it.’

‘Emma,’ Dean repeated.

‘As in the version of The Savior you used to know?’ asked Cas.

‘Oh, so you figured that out too. Clever,’ said Crowley, with an impressed nod. ‘Yes, her. It’s nothing much. I just thought you’d be interested in the fact that she came to visit me last night. Late. Threeish, maybe four.’

‘The Savior visited you?’ Castiel asked, his eyebrows shooting up as he took a step closer to Crowley.

‘Briefly,’ Crowley confirmed. ‘She didn’t stay long. Just came to inform me that Amara’s been taken care of for now, but not in the best way. She’s been abducted.’

‘Amara’s been abducted?’ Dean asked, with eyebrows raised as high as Cas’s.

‘Captured would be a better word. By angels.’

‘ _Angels_?’

‘Who’s Amara?’ Claire asked.

‘My disowned niece,’ Crowley replied. ‘And yes, squirrel, abducted by angels. The select few angels that are still in God’s good books showed up and took her to him for a short little visit. She’s due to escape in say … a week or so? Emma’s helping her.’

Crowley’s casual manner was unnerving. Dean and Castiel exchanged a dark look.

‘The Savior is helping The Darkness escape the custody of God,’ Castiel stated.

‘Emma is, yup.’

‘God,’ he repeated. ‘The creator of the universe. My father. God.’

‘God,’ Crowley echoed. ‘The creator of the universe. Dean’s future dad-in-law. God. Tall bloke, long white beard, looks a bit like Gandalf, or so people assume. I tend to be on their side about that.’

Castiel asked, ‘have you met him?’ just as Dean was grumbling, ‘God is not my future dad-in-law.’

‘Just a joke, Squirrel, and no Kitten, I haven’t. But Emma has.’

Dean frowned at Crowley, mouthing ‘kitten?’ questioningly at him.

‘Emma as Emma or Emma as another version of herself?’ Castiel asked urgently. ‘Because if more than one version of The Savior can exist at the same time, we need to know.’

‘As herself, I think,’ Crowley answered. ‘There’s only one Emma, and she paid him a visit. But she’s been busy, staying in contact via text message now.’

‘God _texts_?’ Claire exclaimed, unable to stop herself, astounded.

‘Everyone texts,’ Crowley told her offhandedly. ‘Why should God be any different? It’s good enough for us, so it’s good enough for him.’

‘And that’s it?’ Dean asked. ‘That’s all you know? Or is there actually something we can do?’

‘Of course there’s nothing you can do,’ Crowley scoffed. ‘Emma breaks her out. Savior kills her. Savior goes home or back to wherever she came from. End of story and simple as that. The word goes Darkness-free again, I can stop having extra demons protecting the entrances to hell every day, you lot can go back to hating me and never having to deal with me and probably trying to kill me every chance you get. Sound good to you?’

Dean and Cas looked at each other again. It was hard to digest that easy, matter-of-fact wad of information Crowley had just given them. It was never that easy. Ever. They both knew that and got that message to each other through visual contact.

Cas shrugged his shoulders slightly.

_What else can we do?_

Dean tilted his head slightly, raising his eyebrows.

_I suppose you’re right._

‘Yeah,’ Dean said slowly. ‘Sounds good.’

‘Excellent,’ Crowley beamed.

‘Try and find out more,’ Castiel requested, ‘about God. The Savior. These angels. And keep us informed.’

‘Keep wearing those darling sweaters and you’ve got a deal,’ Crowley agreed.

‘Good,’ Castiel replied coolly.

‘Don’t forget to tell your moose,’ Crowley reminded them.

‘Like we could ever forget that,’ said Dean.

‘Great,’ Crowley chirped. ‘I’ll be off, then. Happy shopping.’

Looking cheerful, Crowley pulled his shopping cart back, turned around and headed off in the opposite direction as if they were old friends who’d run into each other and it was time for them both to continue with their busy days. 

Dean was the first to turn back to their own cart and start walking away, the other two following suit.

‘So who –’ Claire started.

‘Oh, and Dean?’

Crowley interrupted by shouting half way across the aisle to grab their attention again. Dean groaned and turned around.

‘What?’ he asked in annoyance.

‘If you don’t want people thinking God is your future dad-in-law, try not touching the angel every five seconds. It makes it too obvious.’

Dean was unamused.

‘Go to hell, Crowley.’

‘On my way,’ Crowley replied.

He vanished around the corner, and hopefully vanished from the store. Either way, Dean and Castiel made sure to go the rest of the way around the store quickly and check out as fast as they could while Claire gave them some inquisitive looks. She didn’t ask what she’d been going to ask inside until they’d pulled out of their parking space and were driving away.

‘Who _was_ that?’

‘That, Claire, is the human-appearing embodiment of an asshole,’ Dean told her firmly. ‘More commonly known as Crowley.’

‘He’s the King of Hell,’ Cas explained. ‘Like he said.’

‘The actual king of … real hell?’

‘Yes.’

‘So hell has a king? Like England has a queen?’

‘You could make that comparison, yes.’

‘So are you the king of heaven or something?’

Castiel smiled.

‘No, I’m not. In fact, they hate me there. It’s likely that I’m anted dead or alive.’

‘Why?’ Claire asked.

‘Because I broke in and abducted a prisoner and let him escape.’

‘Oh.’

‘He did it to get his grace back,’ Dean elaborated. ‘Because that dick he broke out stole it.’

‘Grace?’ Claire asked.

‘It’s what makes me an angel,’ Castiel explained. ‘And he took it, for a time, but I got it back. That’s far from the worst thing he did. He closed off heaven causing all angels to fall, and worst of all, he killed Dean.’

‘Come, Cas. Stealing your grace is worse,’ Dean reasoned.

‘I was still alive after he’d stolen my grace. You were dead when he killed you. And don’t get me started on what happened after that.’

‘Can’t you just agree that both of those things are just as bad as each other and stop using which ones you guys think is worst to show off how head over heels obsessively over-protectively in love with each other you are?’ Claire cut in.

Dean and Castiel looked at each other. Cas raised his eyebrows. Dean sighed.

‘Fine. We’ll stop,’ Dean promised, then mumbled, ‘but stealing Cas’s grace is still worse.’

‘I heard that,’ Castiel replied curtly, ‘and I still disagree.’

‘So, The Darkness?’ Claire asked, as Dean opened his mouth to argue.

‘God’s sister,’ said Dean. ‘Also known as Amara. She eats souls and … well, we don’t really know what her plan is, but she needs to be taken care of.’

‘So she’s the bad guy,’ Claire clarified.

‘Yeah, exactly,’ Dean agreed. ‘She’s our Darth Vader but without the Stormtroopers.’

‘But this thing called The Savior is getting rid of her, right?’

‘We hope so.’

‘It’s rarely that simple,’ Castiel pitched in, ‘but that doesn’t stop us from hoping it will be. All we can do is … wait. See what happens and what we can do when whatever happens happens.’

Claire nodded, falling silent. She looked at the floor, thinking about what their lives probably entailed that she couldn’t even fathom. The day that had started off lighthearted and fun suddenly seemed a lot darker.

‘I hope it does turn out to be simple,’ she said eventually.

‘Thank you,’ Cas said gratefully.

‘We appreciate that,’ Dean added.

The drive back to the bunker was tense. When they got back they discovered that Aroura had gone out. Dean raised his eyebrows at this, but Sam brushed him off saying nothing was wrong and that she’d had an important-seeming phone call before she’d decided to take her car out and drive around for a while.

‘But her car was there when we got back,’ Castiel stated. ‘All of the cars were.’

‘Well, then, maybe she went for a walk,’ Sam shrugged.

‘Whatever,’ said Dean quickly. ‘Listen, Sam, come help us but away the stuff we got, would you? We’ve got something you’ll need to hear …’

In the kitchen, putting away some food stuff and basics, Dean and Castiel repeated the conversation that they’d had with Crowley. Dean impersonated Crowley’s voice. Cas cringed, but also didn’t want to admit how hot Dean doing an English accent was.

‘So that’s it?’ Sam asked, his eyebrows raised. ‘It’s over? Amara is just … taken care of?’

‘So he says,’ said Dean.

‘That’s impossible. It’s never that easy.’

‘That’s what we thought.’

Sam paused, staring at the two of them as if trying to read in their faces that there was something they weren’t saying, but they had nothing to hide. Sam shook his head.

‘I don’t buy it,’ he decided. ‘I’ll be keeping an eye out looking for Amara stuff on the news.’

‘As will I,’ Castiel declared firmly.

‘Me too,’ Dean agreed. ‘It doesn’t make sense. A few weeks ago she was transporting me to fields and creeping me out and fucking … fucking … putting her face on my damn face, and now she’s just … captured? And The Savior is dealing with her? The Savior is _around_? It just doesn’t fucking add up.’

‘Amara put her face on your face?’ Cas asked, turning towards Dean in shock.

‘The bitch kissed me, yeah.’

‘Eugh,’ said Sam.

Castiel’s eyes grew livid.

‘I wish I was The Savior so _I_ could kill her.’

‘You held her as a _baby_ ,’ said Sam.

‘She had no right,’ Castiel growled.

‘That’s like … pedophilia.’

‘There was no consent in that situation _whatsoever_.’

‘You told her that, right Dean?’

‘There wasn’t, _was there_?’

‘I didn’t have time, Sam, and no Cas, there wasn’t,’ Dean answered.

‘That’s sexual harassment,’ Castiel stated. ‘Dean, are you okay?’

Dean frowned.

‘Of course I am. It was a while ago and it was just some dumb kiss from some chick who’s not even that hot.’

‘You don’t think she’s hot?’ Sam asked.

‘She creeps me out too much to be hot,’ Dean shrugged.

‘I hate Amara,’ Castiel hissed.

‘Calm down, Cas,’ Dean urged. ‘It was one time. I’m over it. Now calm down.’

Castiel continued to look pissed off, even after they left the kitchen and rejoined the rest of the group, who really seemed to be making themselves at home, which was nice to see. Claire had already joined Alex on the couch and they were scrolling through Netflix on the television while whispering together. Jody was reading the book she’d started reading several days ago. Donna was looking at one of the diagrams over her shoulder, looking moderately repulsed by it.

Sam sat down and pulled out his phone, presumably to text Aroura, while Dean and Cas took one chair as usual. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas from behind as Cas leaned back against him, sighing huffily.

‘Come on, Cas,’ Dean coaxed, ‘just forget about it. I’m over it, you should be too. We’ve all had our fair share of assault from monsters.’

‘Dean, you don’t understand,’ Cas huffed, shifting so that he was sideways and could look Dean in the face. ‘Amara is my aunt. You got kissed by my _aunt_. That makes it worse.’

Dean frowned momentarily before it hit him that Cas was right. Dean shuddered at that thought. He looked up at Cas, looking very disturbed.

‘I feel sick,’ he stated.

‘That’s not surprising,’ Castiel stated. ‘I’m sorry I reminded you of that fact.’

‘It’s fine,’ Dean sighed. ‘Hey, you feel like eating?’

Code: _you hungry?_

‘Not really,’ Castiel admitted. ‘Why, are _you_ hungry?’

Dean shrugged.

‘It’s about time for lunch,’ he said lightly. ‘I’m gonna grab something.’ He spoke louder now, addressing the whole room. ‘Anyone want anything from the kitchen?’

No one did. Donna, leaning on Jody’s chair, and Jody herself, were too lost in a part of the book that described the process of going from human to wolf on the full moon and Alex and Claire were now whispering with Sam, Claire showing Sam something on her phone. With a shrug, Dean stood up and headed to the kitchen, Cas following behind him.

‘So you’re not actually hungry?’ Dean asked, once they were away from the living room.

‘No,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Not since this morning. Now I just feel how I always feel. Like I could eat, but, I don’t really need to.’

‘So you don’t want to try out that instant mac and cheese stuff we bought?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. Of course I do.’

Dean grinned. His affection level increased and he grabbed Cas’s hand, swinging their arms as they continued to the kitchen and Dean got to work on making the stuff. It wouldn’t take long. Five minutes in the microwave one at a time or ten in the oven together. Dean chose the latter, set the timer and moved to the table, sitting down. Cas slid in across from him.

‘So,’ Dean announced, reaching across the table for one of Cas’s hands which he started to play with absent mindedly, ‘talk to me. Feeling better than you did this morning?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘Yes. But I still don’t like the idea of the fact that this morning I felt hunger, nor do I like the fact that it came after a sleepless night which was preceded by two sleep-filled ones.’

‘How about after this we head to the library and hit up all the books on angels we can find?’ Dean asked, tracing light circles with the tip of his finger on the back of Cas’s hand. ‘See if any of them say anything about angels needing to sleep, or eat, but not both? Or even both. Anything we can find that relates, I guess.’

‘So it seems like the break is over,’ Cas said with a sigh, not looking in Dean’s direction.

‘Technically we’re not hunting and this has got nothing to do with Amara or anything Amara-related,’ Dean reminded him. ‘So the break’s not over, we’re just doing some research because we’re interested. That sound good to you?’

‘Yes, Dean,’ Castiel replied appreciatively. ‘It sounds fine. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Dean said sincerely, now wrapping Cas’s hand up in both of his.

Castiel smiled and began leaning across the table towards Dean, rising to his feet. Dean followed his lead and just as their lips met there was a shuffling sound and the door of the kitchen was shut swiftly, causing them to break apart and sit back down, looking towards the door to see Aroura, returned from her outing, with her back against it looking grave.

‘Good, you’re alone,’ she said quickly and approvingly. She rushed towards the table and put both hands down on it at the side, looking between them from one to the other. ‘I need your help.’

Dean raised his eyebrows.

‘Help with what?’

‘Sam,’ she stated. ‘Sam. He’s in trouble.’

‘Sam’s in trouble?’ Castiel asked urgently, turning towards her quickly. ‘He’s in trouble how?’

‘Well …’ Aroura hesitated. ‘He’s not in trouble, exactly. He’s just not safe.’

‘Not safe from what?’ asked Dean.

Aroura paused. She seemed to collect herself and gather her thoughts, calming down her frantic way of speaking, to make one bold and shocking statement:

‘Lucifer.’

It was like they couldn’t comprehend what they were hearing. Of course Aroura hadn’t said that. That was impossible, but she had. Aroura, the suspected savior to the perky constantly happy miniature-human that was always with Sam, now to the thoroughly confusing individual who apparently knew about Lucifer, had said Lucifer.

‘What?’ Dean asked.

‘Lucifer,’ Aroura repeated.

‘I don’t understand.’

Aroura sighed.

‘I’m not a charity worker,’ she stated.

‘No kidding.’

‘Unless hunting is considered charity work,’ she added. ‘Now move over. I have some stuff you need to hear.’

Aroura sat beside Castiel and spoke in very serious tones to the two of them while the stuff in the oven cooked. She was still talking when they took it out. She told them of how her grandparents had been hunters and her parents too, but her parents had died doing the job. She had been a hunter almost her entire life, working her first job when she was just fourteen, and she worked her way up through the ranks of the lifestyle to the point where she knew everyone and anyone and she had, in fact, read the Supernatural books and knew exactly who everyone here was. Not only that, but she knew Chuck Shurley personally, and that he had told her that Lucifer had escaped his cage.

‘But that’s impossible,’ Castiel stated. ‘He was there when I went in to rescue Sam. He was securely locked inside. There’s no way he could have gotten out.’

‘Not without help,’

‘Help,’ Dean repeated.

‘From The Darkness,’ Aroura clarified.

‘That’s impossible,’ Castiel declared. ‘Crowley, the King of Hell, told us she was captured by angels.’

‘The help doesn’t come directly from The Darkness herself,’ Aroura explained, ‘she’s working with someone. An angel, we think, but Chuck hasn’t seen who it is yet. What he’s been seeing these days is broken and in parts and not coming through as clearly as it used to.’

‘So what are we supposed to do?’ Dean asked seriously.

‘Act natural,’ Aroura instructed. ‘Don’t act like anything is different. Just whatever you do, don’t let Sam go out alone. Because Lucifer is looking for him and he’s pissed. Don’t get worried, don’t tell anyone, someone is taking care of it, I just thought you should know.’

Aroura stood up and left the room without another word leaving Dean and Castiel in stunned silence over their macaroni. They locked eyes and looked towards the door, now wide open again as if that conversation had never taken place. Dean raised his eyebrows.

‘So, she’s The Savior?’ he presumed out loud, assuming her being just a plain hunter was a false story.

‘Either that or she knows The Savior,’ Castiel agreed. ‘But Lucifer …’

‘What exactly is his plan?’ Dean asked, looking strained. ‘It’s not like there’s an apocalypse he can jump start again. There’s no one in heaven to fight on that side.’

‘But if The Darkness or her ally freed him …’

‘Then he wants what she wants?’

‘But what does she want?’

‘Exactly.’

Silence fell again, as did the realization that in this scenario, they were clueless and powerless at the same time.

‘Dean,’ Castiel said worriedly, ‘what do we _do_?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean groaned, placing his hand over his eyes as he sighed. He lowered it again. ‘Keep a look out whenever we go out? Check the news, the papers, the radio for anything that could mean trouble … look for omens like we did in the old days?’

‘Is there anything else we can do?’

‘Not tell Sam?’

‘Ask Aroura for updates from Chuck?’

‘Actually get in contact with the guy?’

Castiel nodded, looking pensive. Dean stood up and discarded their now-empty food dishes and brought he forks over to the sink. Cas remained in his seat, staring ahead of him.

‘I don’t like this,’ he stated. ‘I don’t like not knowing things.’

‘Neither do I,’ Dean agreed. ‘And I don’t like not being able to do anything … waiting for The Savior to take care of The Darkness, now Lucifer … do you think she can get rid of him too?’

‘Who knows?’ Castiel asked. He left his seat and wandered over to where Dean was standing by the sink.

‘Aroura might,’ Dean pointed out.

‘That is true,’ Castiel agreed, nodding. He groaned. ‘Dean, how did this happen?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Who knows.’

‘We were happy earlier,’ Castiel stated. ‘We were shopping. We were laughing. And now Lucifer is out of the cage, making my own discomfort with my need for food earlier seem unimportant and making everything feel … wrong.’

‘But Aroura told us to act natural, right?’ Dean asked, taking hold one of Cas’s reluctant hands. ‘Which means that she knows something. That she knows someone’s taking care of it, or she’s on it or ... something.’

‘But how are we supposed to act natural with this information in our heads?’ Castiel asked. ‘What does she expect us to _do_?’

Dean faltered, standing there, eyes locked on Cas’s. He knew that suddenly this situation seemed much more dire. It had been easy to take a break knowing The Darkness wasn’t out there doing anything extreme and it seemed even easier after today, finding out she was captured, but Lucifer and some unknown ally being out there … how long had he been out? Shouldn’t everyone be warned? Although Lucifer was just one angel and Crowley didn’t seem to know about him being out, unless _he_ was the ally … or maybe it was Rowena, though she didn’t seem the type …

There was nothing to do but overthink it. Dean went for the door.

‘Dean?’ Castiel asked, his question still unanswered.

‘We’re going to the library,’ he announced. ‘To look up stuff about angels needing to sleep and eat but still being angels.’

‘Dean, that hardly seems important now.’

‘She told us to act natural, we’re acting natural. We’re going to forget about it until we can get her alone and then …’

‘Then?’

‘I don’t know. Ask to talk to Chuck? It’s been years but he’ll probably still be keen to help us won’t he?’

‘If he’s still a decent human being, then yes, he will I presume,’ Castiel replied, allowing himself to be dragged along behind Dean. ‘So we’re just forgetting about the fact that Lucifer has been freed from his cage?’

‘Yup, pretty much.’

‘For how long?’

‘As long as it takes.’

‘I don’t like this.’

‘Neither do I. Now shut up about it and let’s focus on you.’

Once in the library, they started pouring over large volumes, half of which weren’t even written in English. It was hard to concentrate on their research with the knowledge of Lucifer’s freedom weighing on them, but they wouldn’t have found anything anyway. There wasn’t a single thing in any of the books so Dean suggested they hit up the net too, which would also give them time to do a quick search for omens, disasters and anything else that Lucifer might be the cause of.

They decided on the Lucifer stuff first, and there was absolutely nothing.

There was also nothing when it came to their research on angels.

It was all extremely fucking frustrating.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dean stated, seeing Cas looking minimally disappointed.

‘Don’t be, Dean,’ Castiel insisted, brushing him off. ‘There’s more pressing issues to be dealt with. We need to talk to Aroura again. Perhaps bring up The First Book.’

‘Yeah’ Dean agreed with a nod. ‘Yeah, if she’s The Savior or even if she knows about her, she’ll know about the book. Another question is: does she know _we_ know about the book?’

‘If she doesn’t, it would explain why she hasn’t brought up anything Savior-related,’ Castiel contemplated. ‘Crowley mentioned Amara being captured, Aroura acknowledged that when we mentioned it, so if she knows that Amara is captured but doesn’t know we know about the plan for The Savior to finish her off … she’d generally omit mentioning so she wouldn’t confuse us, with a new character in all of this.’

‘So we make sure she knows that we know, and then if she knows or is The Savior …’

‘We find out what her plan is and we get to tell Sam about it, and everything ends up getting dealt with. Right?’

‘It sounds right, yeah.’

‘But how do we get Aroura alone?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Not a fucking clue. Act natural like she told us to, wait for the right moment and then wing it?’

Castiel shrugged and nodded. It seemed like a decent enough plan to him … even if he was startled by how quickly things had changed. The pace at which everything was going was making him extremely uncomfortable. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t as though there weren’t threats already out there, they had just been ignoring them and getting wrapped up in the holiday season, always intending to go right back to the struggle they called their usual life.

In the whole sense of acting natural, they returned to the living room. Sam and Aroura were in one chair, deep in conversation that was probably about how pretty the other one looked. Aroura didn’t look up as Dean and Castiel entered. Jody and Donna were on the couch, Would You Rather cards that they were playing on the coffee table. Claire and Alex weren’t here, but Dean and Castiel were informed that they had gone off to take a breather alone in one of their rooms.

It was annoying to have to sit there and act natural when all they wanted to do was start loudly talking about The First Book. Instead, they were forced to sit still and focus on the TV, which had been playing in the background and upon asking they were informed that no one was paying attention to it and they could go ahead and put something on. It was too difficult to concentrate on Grey’s, so they put on Friends, some easy watching that they could laugh at when the audience laughed to make it seem like they were watching it even when they were too lost in thought to pay attention to whatever was the cause of their fake laughter.

Their opportunity came an episode and a half later, when Sam left the room. He probably wouldn’t be gone for long – snack break, bathroom break, stretching his abnormally long legs, something along those lines – so Dean took that opportunity to clear his throat and make a statement he couldn’t make around Sam without arousing suspicion. But since either Donna nor Jody nor the newly arrived Claire and Alex knew what The First Book was (well, Claire didn’t know the full story at least), they wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

‘Hey, Cas, didn’t you say there was something you saw in The First Book that sounded familiar?’ he asked casually, looking at the angel with raised eyebrows. Castiel frowned at him. Then something in Dean’s eyes made him understand.

‘Oh, The First Book,’ he repeated clearly. ‘Yes. There was something about the first version of The Savior …’

‘I wish that version’s name was in the book so we could stop having to say the first version of The Savior every time we mention her,’ Dean said with a sigh as Cas got off of him and got to his feet. ‘It’d be easier if all of them were named like that Emma chick. Or that other one, I think it said her name was Emerald or something …’

Dean stood up and Castiel shrugged.

‘Perhaps we’ll find out her name if we ever meet her.’

No suspicious looks, not even from Aroura, as Dean and Castiel crossed the room, Dean nodding in agreement at Castiel’s last statement, and went straight out the door.

‘So, where to?’ Dean asked, as if Cas knew where Aroura would come looking for them.

‘Where did you last have the book?’ Castiel asked.

‘Library,’ said Dean, ‘you know, from the time I was reading it and found out Crowley is in it and you attacked me.’

‘I did not attack you!’ Cas protested.

‘Yeah, you did,’ Dean argued. ‘You came at me all frantic and then punched me in the face with your face.’

‘It’s called kissing, Dean.’

‘Oh, is that what it was?’

Cas rolled his eyes.

‘So the book is in the library?’ he asked.

‘No, I moved it before I packed for our trip to the city to get the gifts. It’s under my bed.’

‘Then we’ll go there and see if she shows up,’ Castiel decided. ‘I’ve noticed that anyone in relation to a certain book or object seems to gravitate towards it, like you with the Book of the Damned when you had the mark. So if Aroura knows or is The Savior, then she should strongly feel the pull or presence of The First Book.’

‘That’s good thinking, I like that,’ Dean approved. ‘Remind me to punch you in the face after the Aroura confrontation?’

‘As long as it’s with your face,’ Castiel clarified.

‘Naturally. You know I’d never punch you with my fist … well not now anyway. I think we’re done beating the crap out of each other, don’t you?’

Castiel usually would have been tormented by an image of him attacking Dean or Dean attacking him, but instead all he saw in his mind was flashes of the past few days with Dean. Good.

‘I think we are,’ Castiel agreed.

They continued to Dean’s bedroom. Dean briefly dipped under the bed to retrieve The First Book, which he plonked down beside them, staring at it distastefully as if it were about to start attacking them, or start oozing something nasty.

‘Should we open it?’ Dean asked uncertainly.

‘We don’t really have a reason to,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘So what do we do until Aroura comes?’ Dean asked. ‘ _If_ she comes.’

‘I would say that we wait,’ Castiel indicated. ‘It’s likely that she’ll have to wait some time to excuse herself without it seeming suspicious and like she’s following our footsteps. I would wait, if it were me, and make up an excuse.’

‘Alright, well then, if we’re waiting,’ Dean announced, shifting to lean back against his pillow on the side of the bed he usually slept on, ‘we might as well be comfortable.’

Castiel watched Dean for a moment before joining him, his back against the wall due to the fact that there was no pillow on that side. They stayed side by side in silence for a moment, arms folded, staring straight ahead with The First Book between them, until Cas decided to move, push the book down to the end of the bed, and rest his head against Dean’s shoulder. Dean unfolded his arms and put one around Cas leaving the other at his side, so Cas could rest his head on Dean’s chest.

‘Do you miss sleeping in your own room at all?’ Cas asked quietly.

‘Sometimes,’ Dean admitted. ‘I miss the pictures. But being next to you pretty much makes up for that. You’re just as comforting as they are.’

Cas smiled and wriggled a bit, getting more comfortable against Dean. He placed his hand on Dean’s chest, trailing a finger up and down.

‘It’s nice to hear you say that,’ he admitted. ‘And I must say, your presence is comforting too. I thought just being here, somewhere safe, was a relief, but having another person laying with you at night … there’s something very _human_ about it that feels so much better than just being ordinarily safe.’

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked.

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘Even laying together like this while waiting for Aroura makes things seem less hectic. It’s … nice.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ Dean agreed.

‘But I also think you getting to be around the pictures that mean something to you is important,’ Castiel continued. ‘So, if you like, perhaps we could stay in here some nights too.’

‘Nah, man, it’s cool,’ Dean brushed off. ‘There’s no TV in here. You need that for when you don’t sleep.’

‘I can live without television,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I can keep myself occupied with my thoughts alone. Or I could just stare at you for eight hours. That works too.’

‘I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your best opportunities to catch up on Grey’s, though.’

‘But I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the meaningful pictures.’

‘Well then maybe we should just put both of them in the same room.’

Castiel sat up rapidly. Noticing this, Dean dragged himself into more of a sitting position rather than a lounging one. Cas stared at him.

‘You mean … combine rooms?’

‘Yeah, why not?’

‘As in we wouldn’t have separate bedrooms. We would be sharing a room.’

‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what combining rooms means.’

‘Dean …’

There was a knock on the door before Cas could finish. He went to answer it, giving Dean time to swing his legs off the bed and sit on the edge again. Wordlessly, Cas stepped out of the way, allowing Aroura to step in and have the door closed behind her.

‘You have the book,’ she stated.

‘Yeah. Crowley gave it to us,’ said Dean, pointing at it. ‘Why? You in it or something?’

‘A part of me is,’ Aroura said quietly, wandering over to the book. She placed her hand on the cover. ‘But not anymore. I’m not The Savior. She’s someone else entirely now.’

‘Anymore?’ Castiel asked.

‘She creates lives and lives them before she moves on to new ones,’ Aroura explained. ‘I was The Savior, but now I’m not. I’m still the same person as I was when I was, but … I’m just ordinary now.’

‘So why are you here?’ Dean inquired.

Aroura stared at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘For Sam,’ she stated.

‘You don’t even know Sam,’ Dean argued.

‘Yes I do,’ Aroura corrected. ‘I knew him then and I know him now. I’ve read all the Supernatural books. I’ve worked closely with Chuck Shurley and various other past versions of The Savior. I’ve been studying great hunters with impressive legacies my entire life. Samuel Colt, Elliot Ness, the vampire hunter Daniel Elkins, now you. The Winchesters. Because of when I was The Savior. I knew who Sam was going to become. I reached out to him. Even when the savior part of me moved on, I remembered Sam.’

‘Do you care about him?’ Dean demanded.

‘Duh.’

‘Are you ever planning to tell him about all this?’

‘When The Savior takes care of The Darkness and Lucifer in turn, yes.’

‘And then you’re planning to … what?’

Aroura sighed. She sat down on Dean’s bed and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

‘I’m planning to run out on your brother and tell him I never cared about him in the first place. What do you expect me to do, Dean?’

‘I don’t –’

‘I’m in love with your damn brother,’ Aroura stated, cutting him off, looking frustrated and angry. ‘I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen, and don’t tell me that that’s too young to know, because it’s _not_. Sure, I haven’t thought about Sam every day of my life since then, but I always remembered him, not even remembering being with him, but remembering that he, and you, and everyone in relation to you exists because that’s what happens when you used to be The Savior and you read books about people. But your brother is special and he deserves more than what he gets and even if you don’t like it, if you don’t understand it, if it seems rushed, it’s not changing. I’m in love with Sam Winchester. Deal with it.’

Aroura stood up and turned to go. Castiel stepped out of the way to let her. Dean stood up.

‘Aroura, wait.’

Aroura turned towards him moodily.

‘What?’

‘You’re right, I don’t get it.’

‘So?’

‘So, I can try to,’ Dean continued. ‘I don’t know you. I like you, I started distrusting you today, but I like you. You’re nice. Perky, but nice. And you make Sam happy, which is weird to see, but good to see. And yeah, this is all happening fast. Yeah, it’s like you just showed up out of nowhere and suddenly everything is different we’re just expected to go with it and yeah, it’s gonna take some getting used to. I guess in my experience it just … it takes longer to form a bond with someone and to be able to admit that you … you know, you love them. But if you say you love Sam, then … sure. Who am I to stand in your way? You say you’ve read the books, you know him … so cool. I can get used to that.’

Castiel stared at Dean. He hadn’t expected that one bit, but he was glad that Dean seemed to be happy for Sam and that he was finally coming around to the idea of him and Aroura, the incredibly confusing Aroura at that. Castiel too thought everything seemed fast, rushed, too rushed even, but then again, those books were detailed, and if when she was The Savior she’d always known what Sam would become … it seemed to make sense.

‘Well thank you, Dean,’ Aroura said sincerely, turning towards Cas now. ‘And what about you?’

‘I agree with Dean,’ Castiel stated.

‘Good,’ said Aroura, then she started to beam like her usual likeable self. ‘Thank you. Both of you.’

‘No problem,’ Dean muttered. ‘By the way – is there any way you can put us in contact with Chuck? I’d like to talk to him about the Lucifer thing.’

‘Sure,’ said Aroura, nodding. ‘I’ll tell him to call you.’

‘Do you need my number?’

‘Oh, Chuck doesn’t need numbers to call people. Is that all?’

Dean frowned.

‘Uh … yeah.’

‘Then I’ll get back to the others,’ Aroura announced. ‘Claire was talking to me about seeing a movie. She’s nice, isn’t she? And she looks like you,’ she directed at Cas. ‘She acts a bit like you too sometimes. Her mannerisms. I know she’s not technically your daughter but still … it’s a thought isn’t it?’

Castiel raised his eyebrows at this information.

‘We’ve met several times,’ he shrugged. ‘Mannerisms are easy to pick up.’

‘Clearly,’ said Aroura. ‘You just shrugged the way I’ve seen Dean shrug several times since I arrived in this bunker. Funny that, isn’t it?’

Aroura smiled and walked towards the door again. She turned the handle and was about to step out, when Castiel spoke again.

‘What’s funny?’ he asked her.

She smiled again. A simple, matter-of-fact smile.

‘Character development,’ she stated simply. ‘Now wait a couple of minutes before following me. We don’t want to make it look like we’re conspiring behind everyone’s backs. Good talk.’

Before anyone could reply, Aroura slipped out and shut the door leaving Dean and Castiel in half-stunned silence. They turned towards each other with matching somewhat-dazed expressions.

‘So I was wrong,’ Dean said eventually. ‘She’s not The Savior.’

‘But she used to be and she knows her,’ Castiel added.

‘But what did she mean? Chuck not needing numbers to call people?’

Castiel shrugged, in a Dean-ish way, apparently.

‘Who knows. He’s a prophet. Perhaps he can prophesize phone numbers now too.’

Dean laughed.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ he agreed, walking over to Cas and placing his hands on Cas’s waist. ‘So, how ’bout it?’

‘How ’bout what?’ Castiel asked with the smallest of frowns, not grasping the fact that Dean had changed the subject without warning.

‘The room thing,’ Dean clarified, feeling Cas mimic Dean’s hands-on-waist action. ‘Sharing a room in a more permanent sort of way.’

Castiel raised his eyebrows.

‘Isn’t that technically a commitment?’ he asked curiously.

‘I suppose,’ Dean nodded.

‘Huh.’

‘What?’

‘You just don’t seem the commitment type,’ Castiel shrugged, looking at Dean under his lashes. ‘You seem … like Chandler,’ Cas mused, thinking of the witty Friends character he’d grown to like in his few brushes with watching the show.

‘Hey, even Chandler learns to commit at one point,’ Dean reasoned. ‘I won’t tell you when or how or who with, but the guy ends up married with two kids. And if he can go from running away from every relationship he has, I think I can commit to sharing a room with a guy who’s bed I’ve been sleeping in for days and feel like I’ll be sleeping in for the foreseeable future.’

‘The _foreseeable_ future?’ Castiel asked, talking a half step closer to Dean so that their bodies were touching.

Dean shrugged.

‘I’ve been waiting seven years. I don’t see myself backing out any time soon.’

Castiel started to smile, tilting his head to the side.

‘So who’s room would we be moving into?’ he asked quietly, pulling Dean even more tightly against him.

‘Well, mine’s still pretty small, but it’s still bigger,’ Dean said thoughtfully, ‘so there’s more room to set up the TV. We could put it there,’ he said, gesturing the empty space to the left of his bed against the wall, beside the dresser in which he kept his clothes.

‘Oh yeah?’ Cas asked, his smile spreading.

‘Yeah,’ said Dean. ‘I was thinking we could bring in your dresser for your clothes, put it in the empty space. I know you keep most of your stuff in the closet, but you could put all of it in the dresser and if you run out of space there’s room in mine. And then we could put the TV on top of that. And your chair,’ he continued, ‘could go over there on the right between the end table and the lamp.’

‘But where would your laundry basket go?’ Cas asked, referring to the basket in the space where Dean had said the dresser and TV could go. ‘I thought it would be easy to move it to the space you just said we could put the chair.’

‘I could put it beside my bedside table.’

‘And,’ he went on, ‘if you wanted, you could bring your pillows. I know you like a lot of pillows and I usually sleep with just one.’

‘That’s the worst thing about you,’ Castiel told him seriously.

‘Sorry,’ Dean apologized, then continued again. ‘I could even clear some space on the shelf above the bed if you ever wanted to put anything up there. If you had any pictures you wanted to print … and there’d be space for that on top of your dresser, around the TV too. If you _really_ wanted to make yourself at home.’

‘That all sounds wonderful,’ Castiel said with a nod, ‘but what about my suit and trench coat? They need to remain hanging, otherwise they’ll crease.’

‘We’ll buy a wardrobe,’ Dean announced. ‘A stand-up one.’

‘And where would _that_ go?’

‘Where the lamp is?’

‘And where would the lamp go?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And that’s where we hit a problem.’

Dean groaned. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Cas’s, and let out a long breath. Then his head sprung up again as he recalled something.

‘There’s a bigger room,’ he realized.

‘Is there?’ Cas asked in surprise.

‘Yeah,’ he said, nodding. ‘Our rooms, mine, yours, Sam’s, the guest rooms, they’re all like dorm rooms or whatever for the Men of Letters. But there’s this one room, it’s bigger, a whole bunch of more space. It was probably for guests of honor or something. It’s twice the size of any of the others and me and Sam fought over it when we first moved in here and decided if we couldn’t decide who gets it, neither of us gets it. But since there’s two of us in the one room, then there’s a reason for me to _finally_ get the big room.’

Castiel laughed, raising his eyebrows.

‘So I’m an excuse for a bigger bedroom?’

‘Oh yeah, totally,’ Dean joked. ‘That’s all you’re good for. Getting a bigger bedroom and getting laid without having to go pick up chicks at bars.’ Sensing, even though it was a joke, Cas’s face falling, Dean kissed him. ‘I’m kidding,’ he clarified.

Cas smiled.

‘But what if Sam and Aroura decide they want the big room?’ he asked.

‘Aroura doesn’t live here,’ Dean said simply. ‘Yeah, sure, she’s in love with Sam and all that, but she doesn’t live her and only people who live here get that room.’

‘Sam lives here.’

‘Sam’s one person out of two. We’re two out of two. That room is _ours._ We get to sleep in it, fuck in it, furnish it, paint freakin’ rainbows up and down the walls if we want to and Sam and Aroura just have to deal with it because we got it first, God damn it!’

Cas’s adoring smile became more of an excitable one.

‘We get to furnish it?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, well, we need decent stuff. Not stuff that the Men of Letters used in the fifties. The only thing new in this room is the mattress.’

‘So what would we need?’

‘Bed frame. This mattress is good though. Maybe better dressers. A better TV, maybe like the one in the living room. Not the tiny one from your room. The wardrobe, obviously. And anything else that might come in handy. I’m not great at this stuff, I just know the essentials.’

Cas grinned.

‘I’ll read up on it tonight if I can borrow your computer,’ he suggested. ‘The internet seems as good a place as any to get information regarding furnishing a bedroom.’

‘Go right ahead,’ Dean urged. ‘And you know what? We’re gonna have to get you your own computer. Customize it how you like it. We need to get you _everything_ you could ever want or need.’

‘And how do you expect us to pay for all of this?’

‘More credit card scams, obviously.’

‘One day you’re going to get arrested for that.’

‘Already been arrested for it. Murder, too. And been to prison. Trust me, after all these years, we know how to cover our trail.’

‘And when are you expecting to be able to do all this?’ Castiel probed. ‘Lucifer is out of the cage. Amara is captured, but we don’t know everything about that situation either. There are regular cases to be worked too.’

‘No regular cases until after New Years, Sam said,’ Dean reminded him. ‘And as for Lucifer and Amara, well, we wait for Chuck to get in contact and ask him about it. So if we leave tonight, or tomorrow, shop around for a day and then come back, we’ll be back with days to spare before the New Year.’

Castiel beamed at him, not saying anything, until the cogs began to turn in his brain and he started to laugh. Dean frowned at him.

‘What?’

‘You,’ said Cas, chuckling.

‘What about me?’

‘You’re talking about willingly going shopping for household objects like some common person. This is extremely out of character for you.’

‘Making jokes and wearing those tight-ass jeans was out of character for you up until a few days ago,’ Dean pointed out. ‘Besides. This is a one-off thing and it’s for our comfort. And as much as I like getting down and dirty with the hunting and the killing, I like being comfortable. And I really want that fucking room.’

Castiel raised his eyebrows, his grin glued on, as he slid his hands from Dean’s waist to around his neck.

‘Then consider me _in_. I would like to take part in this one-off out of character act of furnishing a room for comfort. I, too, would like to be comfortable considering I’ve never had much time for comfort before.’

‘So we’re doing this?’ Dean asked eagerly.

‘We’re doing it,’ Castiel confirmed.

‘Great,’ Dean declared. He kissed him fiercely and ripped away, making Cas’s hands fall, only for one of those hands to be captured by Dean’s. ‘Then let’s go demand that room. Right fucking now.’

‘Yes, let’s do it.’

Dean shot him one last grin, and the two of them left the room together and headed back to the living room. At the same time, Aroura was sending certain text messages to the man she, on Christmas Day, had called “Carver” and that man was already making confrontation plans.


	20. Meet the Parent

Dean had been expecting an argument, but Sam was completely fine with Dean, at last, getting the big room. Dean even stood there, frowning at him, not comprehending the fact that Sam was telling him to ‘sure, take it.’

‘No, see, I don’t think you heard me,’ Dean pressed. ‘I said I wanted the _big_ room. The one that has _three windows_. And a rug. And a fireplace.’

‘Yeah, Dean, I heard you,’ Sam clarified. ‘I said take it. There’s two of you, you need the space.’

‘But what if –’

‘Thank you, Sam,’ Castiel said sincerely, cutting off Dean who had most likely been about to argue, asking what Cas himself had asked Dean earlier about Sam and Aroura wanting to take it.

They sat down, set to join in the next game of Trouble after the one being played ended, and focused their attention on the television where Ross was talking about dinosaurs, as usual, and made a plan to leave in the morning. They’d leave right now if they hadn’t been promised a dinner of leftovers from Christmas dinner the day before.

It was a pleasant evening, with a mix of Netflix, board games, pointless chatter, chancing unnerved looks at Aroura and phone checking for Dean and Cas. There was no sign of any kind of call or contact from Chuck, and knowing that Lucifer was out there doing something somewhere uncomfortable, and on the pretense of double-checking the address of the Ikea they’d need to go to for furniture, Dean kept checking the news on his phone. There was no sign that the actual real Satan was walking the Earth once more.

Castiel, when they went to bed in Cas’s room (for the TV) that night was glad to inform Dean that he felt no signs of famine or fatigue that day, even when he hadn’t eaten for a while. The hunger he’d felt that morning was purely a one-off thing of the day and he was ready to go into his second sleep-free night, after their almost ritual now fuck. Cas lay back, Dean riding him while facing away from him, Cas occasionally sitting up to leave lipstick kiss trails on Dean’s muscled shoulders, back and spine, his hands caressing Dean’s hips. When Dean came, he came into the panties he’d been wearing, balled up into his fist, definitely in need of washing now.

Unlike the past few nights, they skipped the showering part to save for the morning and lay naked for a while, not particularly bothered with getting dressed. They turned the TV on and started playing Grey’s, Cas resting on Dean’s chest, his hands spread out over the hot skin, occasionally stroking it. Every so often he would press his lips to it too, leaving minimal marks, all the lipstick Dean had put on him having already come off on Dean’s back in dark red marks.

After two episodes, Dean started to feel drowsy and a little chilly, so he looked down at Cas and nudged him.

‘Cas?’ he asked quietly.

Cas didn’t respond. Dean frowned at him, looking at the closed eyelids … he was asleep. Dean bit his lip, holding back a sigh, knowing that Cas wasn’t going to like this when he woke up. He turned the TV off, and then took on the difficult task of moving without disturbing Cas. He made sure he had a pillow ready to replace himself and thankfully the switch worked, giving Dean time to slip on some pajama pants and spread Cas’s gray blanket over him. Dean slid in under the actual duvet and tried not to move the pillow Cas was now resting on, kissed Cas’s forehead and lay down looking at Cas for a while. This morning, Cas had been so happy that he hadn’t slept last night and this evening so happy that he didn’t feel tired tonight …

The last thing Dean thought of before he too joined Cas in sleep was how much he wished he could take the bad feelings that came with sleeping away from Cas, so he wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.

Dean was sleep when Castiel awoke. He didn’t remember falling asleep. He assumed Dean had been the one to put the blanket over him and he smiled to himself at that thought, but then he remembered the whole sleeping thing …

And then, even worse, he felt his stomach rumble. He had fallen asleep and awoken hungry. No, no, no, no, _no_.

His falling back, causing the bed to bounce slightly, from his sitting position was what awoke Dean. Dean’s eyes shot open, his mind momentarily confused, until he saw Cas’s blank expression staring at the ceiling.

‘Cas …’

‘Don’t say anything,’ Castiel instructed. ‘Just don’t. Forget about it.’

Castiel threw on a shirt and pajama pants, grabbed an outfit from the closet, snatched the lube from the bedside table (for reasons unknown to Dean) and left the room. He made his way to the bathroom like he and Dean had agreed last night, left his clothes by the door, undressed and stepped into the shower with the lube in hand. He turned the water on and jumped out of the way of the icy cold jet that hit him, dropping the lube in the process, waiting for it to warm up. Seconds after he stepped under it, Dean entered, with his own clothes and an extra towel.

‘So we don’t have to take turns drying off,’ he explained.

Castiel didn’t reply. Casting him a wary glance, Dean undressed and joined him under the hot water, where he was standing with his arms folded, the water in his face, hair flat to his forehead. As soon as Dean was in Castiel moved and shoved Dean against the wall, pinning his arms to his sides and hungrily attacking his mouth with his own.

He let go of Dean’s arms when he dropped from Dean’s lips to his throat, rapidly dropping again down Dean’s chest right to his dick, holding onto Dean’s thighs as he slipped the fast-hardening organ into his mouth, sucking hard and fast until Dean as fully hard. Castiel then released him from his mouth and motioned, tugging at Dean’s hips, twisting them in a way that implied he wanted Dean to turn around. Dean did as wordlessly requested and Castiel grabbed hold of just below his hips dragged his mouth over the cheeks of his ass, kissing, sucking, then stood up, grabbing Dean’s arms along the way and hauling them up and over his head. He pinned them against the wall with one hand and brought the other hand down to push Dean to take a half step back, so he was at more of an angle.

He let go of Dean’s hands on the wall for a second to grab the lube from the floor put once his fingers were lubed up he was back to using one hand to keep Dean’s pinned, the other to now pumping in and out of Dean, working him open. Once Dean was ready Cas paused his pinning to re-lube, resumed pinning and pushed into Dean, now using his free hand to wrap firmly around Dean’s dick, his hand and his hips moving as one, working together in exact movements. His forehead pressed against Dean’s spine, which was still marked with fading lipstick.

Dean’s come washed straight down the drain when he climaxed. Castiel came inside Dean soon after. He pulled out, dropped his hand pinning Dean’s, but Dean left his hands up and pressed his forehead against the wall.

Cas, his pent up anger at himself now gone with his sexual relief, now began to tenderly wash the lipstick stains from Dean’s back, feeling Dean muscles relax beneath his hands. When Dean’s back was washed and clean, Dean turned around, his back against the wall now.

‘Feel better?’ Dean asked, as Cas squirted out more body wash.

‘Much,’ Cas said with a nod.

He rubbed his hands up and down the front of Dean’s torso, soaping it up and rinsing it off.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m fine.’

Castiel moved onto Dean’s legs. Dean grabbed some shampoo and started working it through Cas’s hair, despite it not being dirty and there being no need for it. It just seemed like the thing to do. They continued washing each other until there was nothing left do and then they stood, facing each other. Dean smiled at Cas fondly and placed a hand on his cheek.

‘You need a shave.’

Cas chuckled.

‘Sure I do.’

Dean frowned.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘I don’t shave, Dean,’ said Cas, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Except for when I was human. As an angel, I simply maintain my own hair growth using my grace and stop maintaining it if I want it to grow any longer.’

Dean frowned at him.

‘Then what the hell happened in purgatory?’

‘I was too preoccupied to maintain it as I was using everything I had to keep monsters away from you. I thought you’d know that.’

‘How the hell would I know that?’

‘I don’t know. I just assumed.’

‘Well it’s news to me, pal. But I wasn’t kidding. You gotta shave. You’re scratchy as hell.’

Castiel frowned and ran his fingers over the side of his face Dean’s hand wasn’t on. His eyes, which had been looking ahead of him blankly, met Dean’s.

‘I must have been preoccupied,’ he muttered. ‘Thinking about Lucifer. And Amara. And Aroura. And bedroom shopping. And sleeping. I … I need to shave. How foolish of me.’

‘You don’t _have_ shave,’ Dean said quickly, dropping his hand. ‘I just meant it as sort of … telling you you’ve got more stubble than usual. I assumed you hadn’t looked in a mirror yet and when you did you’d see and probably want to get it to the way it usually is. But you don’t have to do anything, you still look good.’

Castiel shook his head.

‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘No, I have to make it look like nothing his different … like … like … Aroura told us to act natural, so I …’

‘No worries,’ Dean cut in. ‘You can borrow a razor. Just don’t cut yourself.’

‘I won’t,’ Cas promised quietly, looking down. ‘Can we get out now? This water isn’t as warm as it was earlier and … I’d really like to get some breakfast.’

Dean nodded and turned the water off. Sensing something less than happiness in Cas, he pulled him against his chest and wrapped his arms around him tightly. It took a second, but Dean felt Cas hug him back. Dean put his hand on the back of Cas’s neck causing Cas to press his face into Dean’s neck, closing his eyes. Dean turned his head and kissed Cas’s forehead.

Cas looked better when they pulled apart and managed to smile at Dean, who grinned back, gave Cas’s cheek a brief pat and stepped past him out of the shower. He grabbed the towel on his way and Cas followed suit, watching Dean rooting around in the bathroom cabinet before Dean handed him a razor and put the shaving cream on the sink.

Standing in a towel in front of a mirror and shaving next to Dean was weird. Castiel finished after Dean, as he’d been staring at Dean as he shaved and got distracted by all the ways Dean moved his face and tilted his head to make sure he got everywhere. God damn it, shaving wasn’t _supposed_ to look hot, was it?

Cas finished just as Dean was getting dressed and finished getting dressed as Dean started on perfecting his hair. Castiel walked over to Dean and kissed his cheek, making Dean grin goofily.

‘Meet me in the kitchen?’ Cas asked.

‘Sure,’ Dean promised. ‘But first, could you grab my clothes from yesterday and toss them into the laundry basket in my room?’

‘Is that code for “make sure no one sees the come-covered panties on the floor of your bedroom?”?’

‘Pretty much, yeah.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.’

Castiel dealt with the laundry like he said he would and went to the kitchen afterwards, where he poured himself some coffee and accepted a slice of toast from the heaping plate on the table, glad he didn’t have to wait to eat, because his hunger as becoming a discomfort now. He leaned against the wall and listened to the lively debate going on between Aroura, Alex, Claire and Donna about which Shrek movie was the best, the subject having been brought up by more pictures of Aroura’s dog. Neither Sam nor Jody were there and Castiel soon learned that the two of them were in the library, looking at some books that had sparked Jody’s interest.

Dean arrived without long delay and grabbed coffee and toast too and pitched in saying that the second movie was by far the best, because that was the only one he had seen and if he had seen it it was obviously awesome because he didn’t go around watching movies that weren’t awesome.

‘So why did you watch it?’ Alex asked him, folding her arms in a challenging sort of way.

‘There was nothing else on,’ Dean shrugged.

‘So that doesn’t make it a valid contender for which is the best,’ Alex retorted.

No one won the argument, at least not as far as Dean or Cas heard, but it could have been continued after breakfast which was when the left after they made sure to stop by the library and say goodbye to the two in there, before they packed their things in one bag and hopped in the Impala. They brought the roof rack with them, just in case, though Dean was reluctant because it didn’t look great.

‘The stuff in this place arrives in flat boxes, right?’ Dean asked, turning towards Cas. ‘Wait, never mind. It’s not like you’d know.’

‘No I don’t. But why do you ask?’

‘Just worried the stuff’ll be too big to transport,’ Dean said with a shrug. ‘I don’t think it’d be safe to tie a bed to the rack on the roof, do you?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Cas agreed. ‘But if it doesn’t fit, I guess one of us could steal a truck or something. Or a very large van.’

‘We could steal one of their home delivery vans,’ Dean suggested jokingly. ‘But then we’d never be able to shop at this place again … hey, look up motels in the area, would you?’

Castiel did as asked, scrolling through the results he came up with. He showed the results to Dean who glanced at them and tapped on one to open the website, then put his eyes straight back on the road.

‘Check the rooms available?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ said Cas, nodding. ‘So that’s one room, two adults?’

‘No, Cas. It’s two rooms,’ Dean replied sarcastically. ‘Of course it’s one room.’

Cas smiled.

‘It says one queen bed is fifty dollars per night.’

‘Anything else?’

‘That’s the cheapest,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘The most expensive is a suite at ninety dollars a night. There’s also two doubles for seventy and a king size bed for seventy five. And every one of those is plus tax.’

Dean nodded.

‘Well, it’s not like we’re really paying. Feel like laying about in a giant bed?’

‘It makes no difference to me,’ Castiel replied indifferently.

Dean looked over at him, looking down at the phone, looking almost bored. Maybe he still wasn’t so great after this morning.

‘Let’s get the one with the big bed,’ Dean confirmed. ‘Go a little crazy for once. End the year with a bang, y’know? Does it say what else the room’s got?’

‘A coffee maker,’ Cas listed, ‘Something called HBO.’

‘That’d be great if Game of Thrones was on tonight. Go on.’

‘Curved shower rod, though I’m not sure why that’s relevant. Chair with ottoman. Showtime, whatever that is. Hair dryer. Television that’s not as large as the one back at the bunker. Desk. Microwave. Fridge. Radio. Free internet. Iron and ironing board. Lastly, wake up service.’

‘Perfect,’ Dean declared. ‘Screenshot the page. We’re getting that room.’

Castiel frowned at him.

‘Why?’

‘As I said. End of the year. Out with a bang.’

Castiel said nothing. Deep down, he knew that Dean was just going for the extravagant room because Cas seemed to be having a tough time. He wanted to tell him not to bother, but Dean was doing something nice for him and it would have been ungrateful. It’s not like he didn’t want the good stuff, it’s just that he didn’t _need_ it. But Dean, though tough as nails and one to show the world a stony portrait of himself rather than the real him, was honestly the sweetest person in the whole world.

They didn’t talk much during the drive. Cas just wasn’t in a talking mood. Dean listened to some tapes, Cas finished the last of The Hunger Games and got started on Catching Fire. At least Katniss Everdeen didn’t have grace that was almost certainly, for some reason –

 _No_.

Castiel couldn’t assume his grace was deteriorating. There was no way it could be; he hadn’t been involved in anything that cause it. He just … he was just …

There was a logical explanation for everything. He just hadn’t figured out what that was yet.

Castiel read until they’d pulled up outside the place they’d chosen to stay at. He put the book in their shared bag before they got out and when they went inside Dean used Cas’s phone to show the man at the front desk what room they wanted. He gave them a somewhat funny look and said ‘there’s only one room available like the one shown here.’

Cas saw Dean give the man, funny look still on, an offended look. Cas, who had been silent, grabbed hold of Dean’s hand.

‘One room is all we need,’ he said firmly. 

The man raised an eyebrow.

‘Very well,’ he said with an audible sigh. ‘It’s that way. Let me get your key.’

He gave them the key and they left for the room straight away. Dean looked suddenly angry.

‘Did he seem like kind of a douche to you?’ Dean asked, once out of earshot.

‘Ignore him,’ said Cas. ‘Many humans are ignorant.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean grumbled. ‘They are. Fucking douchebag.’

The room was nice. They dropped their bag on the chair (with ottoman) and looked around. Plain. Simple. Big bed. Decent TV.

‘So what now?’ Cas asked.

‘Lunch?’ Dean suggested.

‘Lunch,’ Cas agreed. ‘I’m …’

Dean tried not to look pitying.

‘Were you this morning?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Cas said quietly.

‘So that’s twice on one day.’ Dean paused. ‘Right. Then let’s find a place to eat.’

There was an Arby’s close by with a new thing called Loaded Curly Fries, so they got a plate of those to share plus a hot sandwich and a milkshake each. Cas seemed to enjoy it, especially when they reached for some fries at the same time and their fingers brushed, but he still seemed down. Dean tried to act completely natural, hoping Cas seeing him not acting all sympathetic and what-not would help him forget what was troubling him.

By the time they were finished it was only 2pm, so they decided to head to Ikea to get some of the stuff they needed, or all of it if they could. The first thing they wanted was a bed, and Dean suggested that they get a king bed because he liked the look of the one on the motel room. Cas shrugged, saying it didn’t make a difference to him, but when he saw the sheer number of beds his mind soon changed.

White frames, brown frames, black frames, beds with drawers and boxes and all sorts of things under them. There were many ones they liked, but they went with the FJELL since it had storage underneath it and seemed to be very high up. They were disappointed to find that it was too big for the car, but found that the store would either hold it for them or deliver, which got them deliberating. They hadn’t really thought the whole bed thing through, so they really should have discussed it earlier, but in the end they decided to have it held for them and then come back tomorrow and have the people in the delivery van follow them home.

‘It’s not like any of them are Lucifer in disguise,’ Dean said, though he was still uncomfortable with the idea.

More than just the bed would fit in the delivery van, so they opted to have most of their stuff brought in the van.

They picked out a mattress next, since Dean’s good mattress was too small for this bed, and the picking turned out to be fun. They got to sit on a lot of different mattresses and they went for a memory foam one, like Dean’s was, that wasn’t too firm but wasn’t too soft.

They got a PAX wardrobe, plus one chest of drawers, all in dark colors to match the bed. The wardrobe was big enough for the stuff in Cas’s closet and chest of drawers and the chest of drawers they got was in place of Dean’s. They got some wall shelves and the things they needed to put them up along with a large mirror. They bought a new duvet and pillows (lots of pillows, Cas liked pillows) and got two sets of bed linen, one plaid patterned in black, white and gray and the other with black, white and grey squares.

‘There’s a lot more to this than I thought,’ Dean said uncertainly. ‘We definitely never could’ve brought all this stuff back ourselves …’

‘This feels strange,’ Castiel admitted. ‘But the good kind of strange.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes.’

Dean grinned and they continued their shopping.

They got a weird looking rug that Cas liked to replace the old tattered rug that Dean remembered in the room. It had black, white and some pink in it. They looked at some throws, but decided to stick with Cas’s gray blanket that Dean had given him when he first moved into the bunker. They got three sets of curtains for the three windows in the same gray as the blanket, and three new curtain rods. They got some LED lights, floor lamps, table lamps and a new light shade for the ceiling light.

They paid and arranged a time to meet the next day and decided, once they got in the car, to hit up Home Depot for stuff they hadn’t found in Ikea. They got stuff for tending to the fireplace that was in the room, plus some extra for tending the one in the living room, and they got a TV (smaller than the one in the living room) to hang over their fireplace. This stuff, they could transport in the car.

It wasn’t even 5pm yet as they headed back to the motel for a break.

‘I expected it to take longer,’ Castiel commented. ‘And to be easier. And for there to be less things we would need.’

He was in a much better mood now.

‘Ditto,’ Dean agreed. ‘It’s like we’re moving house, not buying fucking bedroom furniture. So what now? Episode of something on Netflix and then dinner?’

‘Sounds good to me.’

Dean pulled his laptop out of his bag and walked over to the bed, which he hopped onto, groaning. Castiel walked over and sat beside him.

‘I hate shopping,’ Dean declared.

‘I know,’ Cas replied.

‘And we’re not even done,’ Dean added. ‘Tomorrow we have to hit up some shops and get you some stuff you might want. Computer. Giant freakin’ poster of Alex Karev. Whatever you want.’

Cas smiled.

‘Dean, really. There’s no need.’

‘No, there is. You need _stuff_. It’s about time you had stuff. So if I don’t remember tomorrow, remind me.’

Dean scootched back to lean against the pillows from his flat-laying position. He opened up his laptop and brought up Netflix as Cas moved to join him, resting up against him as he pulled up the last episode of Grey’s they’d been watching and hit play. They were steadily making their way towards the end of season four.

After an episode, it was back to the car. They couldn’t decide between McDonald’s and Wendy’s to eat at so they got some takeout from both and then hit up the nearest store that sold beer and got a six pack. They drove back to the motel and put the beers in the fridge except two (one each,) kicked off their shoes and lounged on the bed again, sprawled out, watching Netflix, eating their McDonald’s and Wendy’s. It was exactly an exciting evening, but they’d had worse.

After they finished their food, they finished the episode they’d finished it during, shut off Netflix and turned the TV on, flicking through channels, watching a piece of something here and there. There was nothing great on, but they watched, and drank, anyway.

When they got bored of the TV, they decided to talk. They never really got to talk, one on one, about something that wasn’t about something supernatural, or how one of them was feeling, or some fucked up situation, or something about a show or a board game or a book or something sex or relationship related. Now they talked about stupid things, the getting-to-know-someone things, like music, movie types, their _real_ opinions on stuff they’d seen at Ikea and Home Depot, right down to their favorite colors.

‘What do you _think_ mine is, Cas?’ Dean asked, when Cas asked the question.

‘Black?’ Cas suggested. ‘Your car is black and you seem to like darker colors.’

‘Black is pretty cool,’ Dean mused, ‘but I prefer blue. Not light blue, not dark blue, but _blue_ blue. Have you ever looked in a mirror?’

‘Of course I have.’

‘Ever looked at your eyes?’

‘Naturally.’

‘They’re my favorite color.’

Castiel smiled a goofy, blushy bashful smile and looked away. Dean put his finger under his chin and made him look back at him again.

‘What’s yours?’

‘I like green,’ Castiel stated. ‘Then green you should see in the mirror if you ever pay attention to your eyes.’

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked, eyebrows raised, half-smiling.

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘I like every shade of green your eyes turn depending on the lighting. I like the brown that your freckles are against your normal skin tone. I like the shade of pink your lips are. And I like … whatever the fuck color your hair is.’

Dean laughed out loud, a full body laugh, throwing his head back and his shoulders rolling and shaking.

‘Dude, it’s brown.’

‘Sometimes,’ Cas reasoned, ‘but other times it looks more of a dirty-blond.’

‘I am _not_ blond.’

‘Just _sometimes_ ,’ Cas clarified. ‘And sometimes it looks very dark. Sometimes very light. It’s like … not blond but not brown either, but various places in between.’

Dean raised his eyebrows.

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ he muttered. ‘So what else do you like?’

Cas grinned. He was sitting across from Dean with his legs crossed, but on impulse he dove forward and threw his arms around Dean’s neck, forcing him back against the pillows from where he too had been sitting cross-legged. And then Cas started listing all the things he’d tried to list to himself the night he had been trying not to sleep but not trying to stay awake either. He was still listing them when they started undressing, listing still when they flipped their positions and sat up again, Dean on Cas’s lap now with his legs wrapped around him, fully undressed.

It was annoying having to come apart, but Cas still laughed at Dean, as he walked across the room naked to grab the lube they’d packed from their bag.

‘Shut up,’ Dean growled, practically diving back onto Cas.

Three times, some laying around between each, and one very messed up bed later they decided to call it a night, cleaned themselves up a little, pulled on pajama pants and slid into the bed, fixing the sheets at the same time. Dean’s laptop and the remote for the TV were both on Cas’s bedside table, just in case he didn’t sleep tonight. But it didn’t seem like he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, because he was worn out and tipsy and his eyes were starting to hurt.

They had a lot of room in the very large bed but lay together in the center, Cas resting his head and one hand on Dean’s chest.

‘Dean?’ Cas asked quietly in the dark. ‘Can I say something?’

Dean tightened his one-armed hold on him.

‘Go ahead,’ he urged.

‘Sometimes I forget that we haven’t been together since the day we met.’

The statement was an odd one that Dean didn’t get one bit. Dean remembered every agonizing moment he couldn’t touch Cas, hold Cas, even say what he wanted to Cas and he doubted he would ever forget.

‘Really?’ he asked.

‘Well … no,’ Castiel admitted, trying to find a better way of wording his thoughts. ‘But also yes. I forget that _we_ haven’t been together since the day we met because … we’re not the same as we were when we met. It’s almost like we’re two completely different people.’

Dean took his time digesting the words which he knew, from the moment he heard them, were completely true. He’d just never thought about it that way before.

‘It’s easy to forget how you used to be if you’re not like that now,’ Dean rationalized. ‘You think I want to remember being an asshole straight out of hell who didn’t believe in angels in any way, shape or form? I mean, come on. Look how much things have changed. Angels everywhere. I’ve had an angel _in_ me. Literally. In the sexy way, not the possessey way.’

Cas giggled, muffling the sound by turning his head and burying his face in Dean. Once he’d stopped, he moved his head back to the position it had been in before.

‘I understand,’ Castiel agreed. ‘I was highly unpleasant when we first met. Working on higher orders. Loyal to those who have never been loyal to me. Until I rebelled.’

‘Yeah, you were a rebellious little shit for a while,’ Dean joked. Cas smiled.

‘I didn’t even notice myself changing,’ he continued. ‘Nor did I notice you changing. And now when I think of the people we are currently, if confuses me as to why we felt the need for the years of pent up secrets and feelings and unspoken thoughts. Do you understand?’

‘I do,’ said Dean. ‘I do understand. I understand that we’re both just a couple of morons.’

Cas nodded against Dean, laughing again. He couldn’t open his eyes anymore without them protesting and he was almost sure his voice was lower and deeper than usual.

‘Morons who don’t know how to express feelings,’ Cas agreed.

Silence fell.

Castiel stayed in the same position for what was either several seconds or several minutes. There was no way of telling. When the arm that wasn’t thrown across Dean started to become uncomfortable he moved, higher up, so his head was on the pillows and not on Dean but his face was still very close to Dean’s shoulder, which had changed positioned too due to Dean lowering his arm from its position around once Cas had moved. Another moment and Cas turned again, determined to get comfortable, now on his side facing away from Dean with one hand on his pillow and the other on the smooth, cold underside. Dean copied him, turning to face the same way, throwing an arm over Cas and worming the other one under him, Dean’s hand joining Cas’s under the pillow.

‘Dean,’ Castiel groaned in exhaustion, suddenly sounding grave.

‘Mhm?’ Dean asked, pressing a kiss to Cas’s shoulder.

‘I don’t want to fall asleep,’ he whispered. Now that he was on the edge, close, it was all he could think about.

‘I know,’ Dean said with a sigh. ‘I know.’

‘No,’ Cas moaned. ‘You don’t.’ He took a breath. ‘I’m afraid that if I fall asleep … then there’s a chance that one day I may never wake up again.’

That one hit Dean close to home. It was something Dean thought of a lot, but not about himself. About others around him closing their eyes and never opening them again. There was a sudden lump in his throat.

‘Don’t say that,’ he pleaded in a whisper. ‘Please don’t say that.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Cas croaked. ‘I’m so … so …’

Black. No dreams. Dean pressed his forehead into Cas’s skin, fighting back sudden, irrational tears which were gone when he awoke.

Despite not wanting to have been sleeping at all, Cas didn’t want to get up when he awoke and screwed his eyes shut again, the light peeking in from behind closed curtains being too bright for his current state of mind. But though his eyes were screwed up against the light, he was disturbed by other things, light a slight hunger which bugged him but wasn’t something he wouldn’t be able to sleep through, but also a tingling pressure in his abdomen that was definitely uncomfortable and that he wouldn’t be able to sleep through.

He ignored it at first, burring his face deeper into his pillow, trying to block everything out and it worked for a time until it didn’t, causing Cas to roll over in discomfort onto his other side just thinking, _ignore it and it’ll go away_. On this side, he was relieved for a time, until he was forced to roll onto his front, then his back, then his side again with his knees curled up against him which definitely made it worse, but a different kind of worse because it was a different sensation now, more like a more manageable burning presence.

Less than five minutes later and it became impossible to stand and he was doing things he didn’t want to be doing, he shouldn’t have _needed_ to be doing, like pressing his legs together and holding his hand in between them. His eyes shot open in the unwelcome light and he hauled himself out of bed towards the bathroom, not literally feeling like he was about to throw up but also feeling like he was about to throw up because this couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t happening, there was _no way_ this could be happening.

When Dean woke up to find the bed empty apart from himself, worry set in as a default and despite being groggy and badly needing to stretch, he threw back the covers and jumped out of bed immediately, looking around the room in a panic. Seeing that empty, he felt even worse. He started to feel better when he saw the bathroom door was closed when last night it had been half open and he assumed Cas was in there, waiting for him to hop in the shower.

Dean strode over to the door and gave it a quick knock to let Cas know he was there before opening it.

Cas was not in the shower. He was on the floor, his back against the wall, his knees pulled into his chest, staring blankly ahead of him. Dean dropped to his knees at once.

‘Cas?’ he asked, suddenly terrified at the look the angel had on his face. ‘Cas, are you okay?’

Castiel looked up at him, looking completely serene. His smile and small laugh were easy, yet horrifically morbid.

‘I’m dying, Dean,’ he said simply.

Dean frowned down at him.

‘What do you mean you’re dying?’

‘It started with a need to sleep,’ Castiel began, his voice still oddly calm, with a slight bitterness creeping in. ‘And then a need to eat. And then both. Yesterday I discovered I no longer had control over my own hair growth. And this morning, I awoke with a need to urinate. The next steps are old age and death.’

Dean suddenly felt ill. He dropped to his knees, shaking his head.

‘No,’ he told him sternly, walking closer to him on his knees and sitting by his side. ‘No. You don’t get to think that. You don’t die. You _never_ die.’

‘Tell that to my weakening grace,’ Cas muttered darkly.

‘Your grace is _not_ weakening,’ Dean said strictly, taking hold of Cas’s shoulders while Cas refused to look at him. ‘There’s no way it could be. Nothing’s happened it cause it. You’re not dying. You can’t be. You don’t do that.’

‘Everyone dies,’ Castiel said simply, swallowing harshly. ‘I’m no different. It seems typical that as soon as I get something I want, as soon as I get _you_ , the process of a slow death begins.’

His voice got weaker with every word and Dean could see tears swimming in his eyes. Dean pulled him into his chest and held him there, unmoving, resting his chin on top of his head.

‘No,’ Dean declared. ‘No way. There’s no way you’re dying, ever, not on my watch. We’ll figure this out, I promise.’

Dean’s hand stroked through the back of Cas’s hair and Cas, slowly but surely, reached out and wrapped his arms around Dean, coming up onto his knees and moving his head to bury his face in Dean’s shoulder, holding on for dear life, maybe literally.

‘You promise,’ Castiel repeated.

Dean didn’t like the fact that his shoulder was getting damp. That meant tears, and Dean couldn’t deal with a crying Cas. Cas didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve needing to cry.

‘I promise,’ Dean confirmed, holding him more tightly than he’d ever held anyone in his life. ‘As long as I’m alive, you’re alive. As long as I’m well, you’re well. As long as we’re together then nothing can go wrong.’

Castiel clutched Dean with everything he had. His nails were digging into Dean’s skin and he hoped he wasn’t hurting him. He couldn’t hurt Dean physically as well as emotionally, which he was surely doing right now. Dean would never let anything happen to him. He would always be there, standing strong, like a rock. Or a diamond. Or something stronger … like … like … like _Dean_.

Of course Dean would never let Cas die, no matter what was going on with Cas’s grace, or just a little too much humanity, or whatever it was that was happening.

Castiel pulled back, releasing Dean, but letting his hands linger.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said bluntly.

‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,’ Dean assured him, giving his cheek a tap, then lightened up with a joke. ‘Besides, it could be worse. You could’ve woken up needing to poop. There’s an ordeal.’

Cas laughed, falling forward into Dean again, resting his forehead against his shoulder. Dean rubbed up and down Cas’s sides and rested one hand on Cas’s lower back until Cas had laughed as much as he was going to and raised up. 

‘You make everything better,’ said Castiel, staring into Dean’s eyes.

‘Well, what can I say,’ Dean replied with an easy grin. ‘It’s a gift of mine.’

Castiel stood up, pulling Dean along with him. The stood in silence for a moment and Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean, his arms slotting under Dean’s and then curling upwards to hang onto Dean’s shoulders. Dean hugged him back, rubbing his back up and down until Cas pulled back.

‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely.

‘Don’t mention it,’ Dean brushed off.

‘Come on,’ Cas urged, taking Dean’s hand and walking backwards towards the shower. ‘Let’s forget this ever happened so we can go and buy more stuff.’

‘I like the sound of that,’ said Dean with a grin, allowing himself to be pulled backwards into the shower.

Showered and breakfasted, they set out again. They found a good store that sold electrical items and they got Cas a small, pleasant looking Lenovo Chromebook. They also picked up a DVD player to hook up to their TV so they could watch the Swayze DVDs Dean had gotten for Christmas. Then Dean suggested they buy a printer and ink, so they could print out pictures from their phones and stick them on their walls, which led to them having to go search for some double sided tape so they could stick up the pictures too.

The previous day, they’d arranged to meet up with their Ikea delivery person around oneish, so they headed over at ten to one and went inside to confirm their delivery with someone, who then showed them which van would be following them. They didn’t have to meet their driver, but their car was pointed out to whoever it was, so they were on track and began the drive back.

The drive wasn’t very conversational, but it was easier than the previous drive to get there had been. More reading and tape listening, occasional chatter, no mentions of the breakdown of this morning or the frightened confession of the night before. The delivery driver stayed close behind them the entire time and then Cas had a thought.

‘What are we supposed to do with the furniture already in the room?’

That was one of the many things Dean hadn’t thought of. He frowned.

‘Storage?’ he suggested. ‘Shove some of it in bedrooms no one uses maybe?’

Cas nodded. Conversation went flat again.

Castiel was beginning to like the second book in this series more than he’d liked the first. Dean was humming along with one of his tapes that he played less than the others. The drive seemed unnaturally long. It was getting dark by the time they got to the bunker and stepped out of the car.

‘Need a hand getting the stuff inside?’ their driver asked in the unlit garage, gesturing towards the nearest door.

Dean and Cas looked at each other. They shrugged.

‘Sure,’ said Dean. ‘Thanks.’

They tackled some of the smaller stuff first, pulling it out of the back of the van and heading towards the door. As they reached it, Dean switched on the light so they’d be able to see better on their next trip. They left the stuff just inside the door and turned to go and retrieve the next load, when –

‘Fuck!’ Dean exclaimed.

Their delivery driver, who they could see in the light at last, grinned.

‘Hey, guys,’ said Chuck.

Chuck wordlessly headed back out to grab some more stuff and Dean and Castiel followed him, looking at each other in the process, completely stunned. Chuck seemed casual, more casual than he’d ever been in any of their experiences with him. He was very laid back and less … jittery than he used to be. He looked the same as ever.

‘Chuck,’ Dean managed to get out, sounding like he was chocking, on their second trip inside.

‘Dean,’ Chuck replied in the same tone of voice. ‘And Cas,’ he added.

‘Hello,’ Castiel said formally.

‘Is there any particular room you guys want this stuff in?’ Chuck asked, nodding at all the large things they were now carrying inside. ‘It’s getting crowded. You’ll need somewhere to put this stuff.’

Dean finally snapped out of his initial shock.

‘What are you doing here, Chuck?’ Dean challenged.

‘A friend of mine told me you two were looking to get in contact,’ Chuck said with a shrug. ‘So I got in contact. I figured you wouldn’t want some random driver following you guys back here, so I took the job and followed you instead. Nice place, by the way. It looks better in person.’

‘You know Aroura,’ Dean tried to clarify.

‘Sure,’ said Chuck, a sudden half-laugh creeping in, his “sure” sounding more like a “sure, why not” kind of thing. ‘And she told me to get in contact. So you never answered me – room?’

‘The, uh …’ Dean stuttered, still thrown. ‘The biggest bedroom. But we’ve probably gotta clear it out first and … store this stuff some place.’

‘You’re gonna wanna bring in the bed frame and the mattress last,’ Chuck went on, seeming almost … Aroura-level perky. It was almost horrifyingly out of character for him, unless they were remembering him completely wrong. ‘Once you’ve cleared out the room would be best. And don’t forget you guys have to put all this stuff together.’

‘The internet probably has tutorials that’ll work better than the instructions, right?’ Dean asked, playing along, raising his eyebrows.

‘You bet,’ Chuck agreed. ‘And if you guys need any help, I can help. I’ve been working at Ikea for about five hours, I’m sure I picked up some tips. And afterwards, or during, you can talk about whatever you wanted to talk about.’

‘You _know_ what we want to talk to you about,’ Castiel said seriously, hauling in a very large, flat packaged something or other and leaving it in the very crowded space inside the door.

‘I don’t _know_ know,’ Chuck replied with a shrug. ‘I’m a prophet, not a mind reader. So do you want my help or not? I know this place. I’ve dreamed about it. I know where the empty storage areas are.’

It seemed like it was the thousandth time in a very short stretch of time that Dean and Cas had exchanged a look like the one the exchanged now.

‘The room’s this way,’ Dean muttered uncomfortably, gesturing while squeezing by the pile up of boxed and packaged stuff. ‘But you probably knew that. And don’t think we’re not trying every monster test in the book on you later,’ he added seriously, turning around to point a finger in Chuck’s face before turning around again.

‘I know the drill,’ Chuck sighed, though the sigh was quiet, almost bored.

They ran into Claire on the way to the bedroom. She was wearing another one of her Black Sabbath shirts and grinned at them.

‘Back?’ she asked.

‘Back,’ Dean and CCas confirmed, speaking at the same time.

‘Hi,’ Claire added, smiling politely at Chuck.

‘Hey, Claire,’ Chuck greeted. ‘Sorry. I know who you are. I’m a prophet.’

Claire looked thrown by this and nodded. After a quick ‘see you guys later’ she was gone, looking confused.

When they reached the bedroom it was cold and smelled like a place that hadn’t been inhabited in years. Though technically that’s what it was. The three of them started to haul things out at once, Cas doing most of the heavy lifting. Dean noticed, frowning as he did, that Cas seemed to be having more trouble than he usually did, which was saying something because Cas had never shown that lifting heavy things was in any way difficult for him before. Though the three of them managed to haul out much of the disused furniture and shove it into an empty bedroom close by, until the large chest of drawers and lamp and various other small unimportant things were out and it was time to tackle the bed.

They stuffed the duvet and pillows into the now overly crowded closest bedroom too and then took on the task of the mattress, which was heavy and discolored and smelled weird and old. It was easy to slide that around rather than lifting it, the three of them keeping it upright on its side, now having to drag it through the bunker to storage rooms on the very bottom level.

They met Sam on the way, as they passed by the kitchen, and he didn’t look surprised to see Dean and Cas at either end of the mattress.

‘Get everything?’ he asked.

‘Got everything,’ said Dean.

‘Probably more than we need,’ said Cas.

‘Need a hand?’ Sam offered.

‘We’re good,’ Dean said gratefully. ‘The Ikea guy is on the other side of this thing.’

They were holding the mattress at an angle and Chuck was on the side that wasn’t close to the door Sam had just come out of and he was also at the end that was elevated, so it covered most of him. You could only tell there was someone there if you looked down and saw legs, which is what Sam did now, and nodded.

Sam laughed when he saw the legs.

‘Okay. Good luck. Call if you need a hand.’

‘We will,’ Dean promised.

They continued on their way, Sam walking in the opposite direction. Chuck looked over his shoulder at him.

‘His hair really _did_ get long,’ Chuck commented. ‘I thought it was just in my head …’

Once the mattress was in storage and had stopped trying to flop down on top of them from against the wall due to its weak springs, they went back to retrieve the bed frame which meant a lot of banging and scraping as they tried to maneuver it through the halls. At one stage when they put it down to try and get a better grip on it, they accidentally put it down on Dean’s toe, which led to a loud ‘FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK’ being screamed until they got it off, alerting those who hadn’t already found out that Dean and Cas were back to the fact that they most certainly were.

The stairs with that bed frame was a journey none of them ever wanted to repeat. Chuck seemed to hold the bed high with ease, but worried about falling down the stairs. Dean was convinced he was going to drop it. Cas looked plain uncomfortable. Eventually, very very slowly, they got that into storage too and now went to bring the purchases they’d already brought in right to the bedroom.

And then they had to deal with another bed frame and mattress, even bigger this time, bringing them in from the delivery van all the way to the bedroom. Once all the stuff was in, they could relax at last and get right down to the talking to Chuck part.

‘So,’ Dean began, closing the door behind them and leaning against the wall due to there being nowhere to sit in here. ‘Lucifer.’

‘No, I’m not Lucifer,’ Chuck said slowly. Dean groaned. Chuck suddenly seemed a lot more serious than he had earlier. ‘But I do know him. Personally.’

‘Personally,’ Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows.

‘As in … you’ve met him?’ asked Castiel, from his position leaning against the wall close by Dean with his arms folded.

‘Yes,’ Chuck confirmed. He looked from Dean to Cas slowly, as if considering. His ways were definitely no longer casual. ‘Listen, guys. It’s time I dropped the helpful-Ikea-driver-who-showed-up-out-of-nowhere thing, dropped the whole thing of being Chuck Shurley the author of the Supernatural books, and got completely straight with you for once. It might seem out of the blue, but …’

The door opened. A random, Aroura-sized woman walked in, but they’d never seen her before. She was less pale than Aroura and her hair much longer and lighter, dark on top but lightening in gradients as it fell over her shoulders. She looked overly cute, like Aroura did, but also like she meant business, like Aroura had during that kitchen conversation.

‘Ariana,’ Chuck acknowledged. ‘Or should I say, Holy One.’

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. He knew about The Holy One. Sam had mentioned her, and he himself had read about her in The First Book. He looked over at Cas, who was frowning deeply now.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Ariana, her voice somewhat breathy and very soft with a unique sound to it. She walked from the door to stand by Chuck’s side. Her walk was like Aroura’s, floaty yet simple. ‘I was with Sam. Or Aroura was, I guess. But I’m here now.’

She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. Part of it was already pinned back. Chuck placed a hand on her shoulder.

‘Thank you, Ariana,’ Chuck replied sincerely. ‘A part of you has been around them longer than I have. You’d know best how to do this.’

‘I guess,’ Ariana shrugged. She walked forward, towards Dean and Cas, surveying them. ‘Sorry I can’t do this as someone you know. Aroura. Tyler. The charred soul of Annabel. The Holy One tends to be the one to come with God.’

Dean’s entire being missed out on a second of life. He was pretty sure he died momentarily, or had some kind of out of body experience, because all he could see was himself hearing and not understanding the words being said.

‘I don’t understand,’ Castiel stated, sometime around the time Dean returned to his body.

Ariana had the face of an innocent child, with something more sinister in those doe-eyes and simply smiling, perfectly lipsicked lips.

‘Castiel,’ Ariana said slowly, joyfully, beaming at him, ‘I’d like you to meet your father.’


	21. The Humanity Awakens

Castiel wasn’t sure why his knees buckled and he almost fell to the floor, Dean catching him and hauling him up just in time. Castiel held onto Dean, staring at God, Chuck, whoever the fuck, minimally shaking his head. There was no way in heaven that Chuck was God. No fucking way. God would not smile in a “well, there you have it” manner while being stared at by an angel and a Winchester, God wouldn’t do any of the stuff Chuck had ever done, it just wasn’t _possible_.

‘That’s not possible,’ Castiel said dryly. ‘That’s not possible – _how is that possible_?’

‘Really good acting?’ God/Chuck suggested with a shrug and an awkward smile. God, a fierce warrior, creator of all, would never do such a thing. ‘But yeah, I’m God. That feels good to say. I’m God. I’m _God_. It’s like coming out of the closet.’

‘Prove it,’ Dean demanded.

‘Prove it,’ God/Chuck repeated.

‘Dean, don’t,’ Cas muttered pleadingly.

‘Yeah,’ Dean said confidently, ignoring Cas. ‘If you’re God then you can … uh … snap your fingers and just … make our furniture build itself.’

Cas looked at him quizzically.

‘What the hell, Dean?’

‘Two birds with one stone,’ Dean shrugged.

One moment they were in a room surrounded by boxes, a bed frame and a mattress, the next, after a snap of some fingers, the furniture now stood where the boxes stood, the rest of the bed frame assembled and the mattress settled into it. Castiel tightened his grip on Dean, the fabric of Dean’s jacket twisting in his fists. Dean’s grip on Cas automatically tightened too, his fingers locking together firmly and resting on one of Cas’s hips, pulling their bodies together. Dean let out a low whistle.

‘Well fuck, Chuck,’ he said, very impressed and quick to correct himself. ‘I mean, uh, God. Your Holiness … Mister Lord, sir …’

‘Chuck is fine,’ Chuck replied evenly as Ariana disappeared behind her hands, giggling into them, her laughter high and breathy. ‘I’m used to Chuck. I’ve been using it for years.’

‘ _Mister Lord_ ,’ Ariana repeated, pulling her hand away as her laughter died down.

‘You’re God,’ Castiel stated. ‘You’re _God_. Oh … my … _you_.’  He let go of Dean quickly, turning to face Chuck and in turn being let go of by Dean. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Chuck frowned, looking confused.

‘For what?’

Castiel swallowed sharply.

‘Everything,’ he stated. ‘Rebelling against heaven. Opening purgatory, saying I was the new y–you, allowing Metatron to use my grace to close heaven, breaking into heaven, breaking Metatron out, having someone in heaven cause a distraction for that and … and … everything else that I haven’t listed but that I’m sure is just as bad. Why are you laughing?’ Cas turned towards Dean, who had his eyebrows raised. ‘Dean, why is he laughing?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Beats me.’

Chuck continued to laugh.

‘What else are you going to apologize for?’ he asked. ‘Accidentally stepping on a ladybug once while you were watching bees? Breaking that machine in the Gas ’n’ Slip? Dropping your clothes on the floor? Banging a human because angels aren't supposed to do that? Please. Don’t. Everything you did, everything that’s happened, it happened because it was _planned_ , Castiel. It’s written in not-so-plain English in the last pages of The First Book.’

Castiel blinked a few times. He didn’t know what part he wanted to correct first.

‘I … I’m not banging a human,’ he said lamely.

‘Oh, you’re not?’ Chuck asked, raising his eyebrows and folding his arms, giving a look that showed he knew he was lying.

‘I’m not _just …_ I mean …’ Castiel took a breath. ‘I love him. I’m not just … just banging him … I love him. Sorry? Should I say that? I’m _not_ sorry about that.’

Chuck shook his head, rolling his eyes.

‘I _know_ you love him, Castiel,’ Chuck told him. ‘It’s in The First Book – not even just The First Book – it’s in the _Bible_. You are the angel that is known to have fallen in love with humanity and, more specifically, the righteous man. It was always supposed to happen this way, don’t apologize for _any_ of it.’

Dean cast his mind back to the last pages of The First Book. He’d probably have to reread it to get it, but now that he thought about it, a lot of it did seem familiar. And as for the thing Chuck had said about the Bible, he didn’t know, but if Chuck said it, it must have been true. Dean looked at Cas, who looked nervous, and walked the few steps forward to stand next to him. He reached out and grabbed hold of his hand.

‘So, about Lucifer?’ Dean asked for the second time.

‘He’s out of his cage,’ Chuck stated the already known information. ‘And for the first time in all of creation, The Holy One, or The Savior, is around to stop him.’

‘And you’re The Savior?’ Dean presumed, looking at Ariana. ‘You lied to us before?’

‘No,’ Ariana replied. ‘I’m not The Savior and I’m not Aroura. I become Aroura in the presence of Sam and have lived as Aroura up until now because Sam is the one out of all those I know that I fell in love with, but right now, I’m a completely different person, I’m stronger and I’m closer to being The Savior than I’ve ever been. Being who I am right in this moment is just one step away from The Savior, who I can only become when face to face with The Darkness.’

‘And Lucifer,’ Dean added.

‘No,’ Ariana replied. ‘Technically it is The Savior who kills The Darkness, but me, The Holy One, who kills Lucifer.’

‘Then which one is Aroura?’ Dean asked. ‘Or the one I met? Or any of the other … _yous_ floating around out there?’

‘Each is a version of the final product, the final product living within each for a time in the beginning and granting infinite knowledge,’ Ariana explained. There was something about her voice that was oddly mesmerizing. ‘Each one is a step closer to this final product and can be switched between, depending on who’s around.  Dean, if we were ever to be alone and I sensed you needed it, then Tyler would be here. The same with Castiel and Annabel. That’s why it’s Sam and Aroura and God and The Holy One, Aroura returning when God leaves, The Holy One returning when faced by Lucifer whether God is around or not. And The Savior will come and manifest when the time is right to kill The Darkness once and for all, fulfilling everything in The First Book, allowing life to continue for all, completely unwritten.’

With anyone else it would have sounded more like a speech. With Ariana, The Holy One, and how she was, it sounded more like something somewhat waffley that only made sense when thought about in one’s own words. Dean found himself nodding, Castiel too, and Dean clarified: ‘so, you’re not Aroura.’

‘No,’ Ariana confirmed. ‘I’m Ariana, which means holy one. I have Aroura’s memories, but none of her feelings. They will only return when in the form of Aroura or The Savior herself.’

It all sounded far too complicated.

‘Speaking of The Savior,’ Dean went on, ‘is she planning on making an appearance any time soon?’

‘When we locate the angels that took The Darkness,’ Chuck answered.

‘There are angels who know about you?’ Castiel asked, directing his question at Chuck.

‘Two,’ Chuck said, nodding. ‘You both know them both well.’

‘Who are they?’

‘One of them is Michael,’ Chuck replied. ‘Didn’t you notice the cage was oddly empty of him when you went down there?’

It wasn’t until he mentioned that they realized he was right. Sam had mentioned being with Lucifer, no Michael, and no Adam either, come to think of it.

‘So, you broke Michael out?’ Castiel asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And what about Adam?’ Dean asked.

‘Adam never made it to the cage,’ Chuck explained. ‘When Michael was using him as a vessel and he was hit with the holy oil, Adam died. He’s in heaven. He was never in the cage.’

‘Who’s the other angel?’ Castiel prompted.

‘Gabriel,’ said Chuck.

‘That’s impossible,’ Castiel retorted. ‘He’s dead. Lucifer killed him.’

‘Resurrected,’ Chuck corrected. ‘As were you. And he’s been in hiding, or at least he was until I resurrected Michael. That was a mistake. The two of them started conspiring about ways to get rid of The Darkness and refuse to disclose her location to me, owing to the fact that last time she was battled it took three ach angels to take her down so they just _assumed_ they could take care of it.’

‘And are you two ever planning to let Sam on this, or …?’ Dean asked, trailing off.

‘Sam is being kept in the dark about Lucifer for his own protection,’ Ariana replied darkly. ‘The more Sam knows, the more likely it is that Lucifer will be able to re-establish their connection. Sam can be let in on this when Lucifer is dead, or when The Darkness is taken care of. Whichever comes first.’

‘So you expect us to just … lie to Sam?’ Dean asked, looking unimpressed.

‘It’s not lying,’ Ariana pointed out with a shrug. ‘It’s just not telling him stuff.’

‘So you want us to keep secrets from Sam, I’m sorry, that’s _so_ different.’

‘Because you’ve been completely upfront with him about everything in the past?’ Chuck challenged, his eyebrows raised.

Dean’s unimpressed expression fell from his face.

‘Fine. We’re not telling Sam,’ Dean muttered, ‘but I’m not happy about it.’

‘Of course you’re not,’ Chuck muttered. ‘So, anything else?’

There was probably six billion questions they could have asked, but there wasn’t a single one that came into the minds of Dean and Castiel. They glanced at each other, then at the odd pair. Castiel shook his head silently. Dean shrugged.

‘Then we should go,’ Ariana decided. ‘If you run into Lucifer while out at any point, just call for me. I’ll hear.’

‘Me too,’ Chuck agreed, ‘but I’ll be busy. So maybe stick to calling her. Is that all?’

‘I guess,’ Dean shrugged.

Castiel nodded in agreement with Dean. He was finding it difficult to form words. And then he realized: God. _God_. This was God.

‘I think something is wrong with my grace,’ Castiel admitted quickly.

Chuck raised his eyebrows. He folded his arms and nodded once, looking serious.

‘Okay. Elaborate?’

‘I don’t know what happened,’ Castiel stated. ‘One night I just … fell asleep. And from then on it seemed to weaken. I now need to sleep every night and eat regularly and I fear more is to come. We checked books, we looked on the internet, but we couldn’t find anything that could explain what’s happening.’

‘Did something happen to cause this that I somehow don’t know about?’ Chuck asked.

‘No,’ said Cas. ‘Not that I can recall. It just started happening.’

‘Come here,’ Chuck said, gesturing with his hand.

Castiel let go of Dean’s hand and stepped forward until Chuck gestured for him to stop. He didn’t know why he was nervous, he had interacted with Chuck many times before. The fact that he knew he was God now was what made it seem so different. He swallowed and held his breath as Chuck placed a hand on his neck and closed his eyes. Castiel felt an odd swooping sensation throughout his entire body until Chuck removed his hand.

‘Something is happening,’ Chuck said, nodding. ‘But don’t worry. I can fix that. Take a few steps back and Dean, you might want to get out of the line of fire.’

Dean did as was advised. Castiel took some steps back, not knowing what to expect. Chuck raised a hand. Ariana watched with narrowed eyes. A blue, angelic glow started to form around Cas, making his eyes glow the way they rarely did these days. A shadow was cast onto the wall behind them, of a pair of broken wings that horrified Dean, but his hopes soared as the wings started to fill out and look the way they had the first time Dean had ever seen them. Then, more quickly than the slow build up, there was a violent explosion where those rebuilt wings seemed to catch fire and crumble and the light at the same time was blinding. Cas fell forward onto his knees, breathing heavily as the light vanished and Dean rushed to his side, dropping to his knees in the process and throwing an arm around the hunched over Cas on the floor.

‘Cas!’ Dean exclaimed worriedly, knowing that whatever had just happened hadn’t been a good thing. ‘Cas, buddy, are you okay? Are you hurt?’

Cas shook his head, frowning as he straightened up onto his knees with his back erect.

‘I’m fine,’ he promised, sounding winded. ‘I … I think.’

‘What the …’ Chuck muttered. Dean and Cas looked up at him. ‘Something went wrong. I’m sorry … whatever happened to you, it can’t be undone. I strengthened your grace but it just … went back to how it was before I strengthened it. I don’t understand.’

Castiel started to stand up. Dean helped him, putting one arm around him and hauling one of Cas’s arms over his shoulders. He seemed, if anything, weaker.

‘You mean you can’t fix whatever is wrong with me?’

Chuck shook his head slowly. Castiel looked completely helpless. He looked at Dean, as if Dean could help him, could fix it, but Dean looked just as lost as Cas did.

‘I’m sorry,’ Chuck said slowly. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t understand. There’s some … outside force doing this. Or maybe after all these years, after all that’s been done to you and that you’ve been through, it’s finally started to take it’s toll. I’m _so_ sorry.’

‘Come on, man,’ Dean pleaded, ‘there must be something you can do. Anything. Anything at all, even if it’s temporary – please?’

‘I did all that I can do,’ Chuck informed him. ‘I did something temporary and it lasted less than a second. I wish I could do more, but sometimes even God can’t do everything.’

Castiel, stronger now, back to how he had been before the attempt, let his hand drop away from Dean’s shoulders. He stared Chuck right in the eyes and very slowly asked, ‘what’s happening to me?’

Chuck sighed deeply.

‘Slowly, but surely, you’re becoming human. And there’s nothing to be done to stop it.’

‘But there must be,’ Castiel whispered.

‘I’m sorry,’ Chuck repeated.

Dean could sense something was coming. He didn’t know whether it would be anger, sorrow, something else, but he could tell it was coming.

‘Go,’ Dean commanded them. ‘Go, now.’

They disappeared right before his eyes. Dean turned back to Cas, who was staring blankly, his breathing uneven. Dean walked to stand in front of him and placed his hands on his shoulders. A single tear rolled down Cas’s cheek and Dean suddenly hated himself for not being able to do anything about it but wipe it away with his thumb.

‘I told you I was dying,’ Castiel breathed, unable to even form a whisper. ‘I _told_ you.’

It was obvious that no matter how much Cas loved humanity and acting more human, he couldn’t take _being_ human. He’d had a taste of it before, and it was something he didn’t want to repeat for reasons unknown to Dean, but he could guess. Going from angel to human … it was the biggest step down someone could take.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas. It was all he could think to do. He felt weak arms hug him back, but it was obvious there was no life in him. Not now. Not until tears started to flow and then he clung on like he’d die if he didn’t. Castiel’s legs started to collapse beneath him and they fell to the floor, Dean silent, Cas shaking and his sobs quiet. Dean didn’t know when his own tears started to fall but made sure to keep them silent and didn’t bother wiping them, not wanting Cas to know. After a while, one of Cas’s fists started to beat the floor and he shook his head, coughing now, heaving almost, like he was going to be physically sick, until he took in a huge breath and started breathing deeply and more evenly.

All Dean could do was wait for Cas to cry himself out, then sit with him in silence for a while. They were on the floor for almost half an hour, when Cas finally spoke, his voice thick and pained, sending daggers right through Dean’s chest.

‘You must think I’m being ridiculous.

‘No,’ Dean hastened to correct, ‘I don’t. Of course I don’t.’

‘I think I’m ridiculous.’

‘Why?’

Castiel looked up. His eyes flashed over with horror when he saw the drying tear tracks on Dean’s face and he bit his lip. His eyes spilled over with tears again and he couldn’t hold them back no matter how hard he tried and the voice that came out didn’t sound like his own.

‘Because being human isn’t even that bad. You do it every day. Sam does it. Everyone does it. I’ve done it, but I don’t want to feel the way I feel knowing that I’ll never be an angel again.’

‘How _do_ you feel?’ Dean asked quietly, feeling as if he was about to throw up.

‘I can’t explain it in any one word or emotion,’ Castiel blubbered, taking in a shuddering breath. ‘But I feel like if anything happens to you or Sam I’ll never be able to help you again. I feel like I’ll be inferior. I feel like you won’t care about me anymore because I’m not the angel who’s been able to do things for you and get you out of trouble and save you over and over again. I feel like no one could ever care about the angel that became human, because who needs another human when there’s already more than six billion of them in the world?’

‘No, Cas, _no_ ,’ Dean groaned, taking Cas’s face between his hands. ‘None of that is true. Especially the part about me not caring about you anymore. I don’t care about any of that stuff. The stuff you’ve done, the stuff you can do that comes with the whole angel thing, that’s not even important. You’re what’s important, with your stupid squinty eyes and your thing with trench coats and your face that can go from the most innocent looking thing in the world to the face of a ruthless killer in a matter of freakin’ seconds.

‘Being human won’t stop you laughing and fake laughing at all my dumb jokes. Being human won’t stop you wanting to watch all of Grey’s Anatomy before season twelve comes back on. Being human won’t stop you and me being assholes to each other all the time until one of us ends up throwing something at the other. It won’t change how fucking cute you look in beanies and sweaters, how bad ass you look when you manage to make a joke, how much I freak out when you’re in your trench coat and suit and then you take off the trench coat and suit jacket because _holy fucking hell_ , that shit is hot.

‘It won’t change your dumb little quirks, like how you’ve been wearing odd socks for the past three days. It won’t change how lately even the smallest things make you smile. It won’t change that giggle thing you do which is pretty new but I wish I’d gotten to hear years ago. It won’t change your head tilt thing or how when you smile real slow it starts with one side of your mouth and the other joins it. And there’s so much more I could list.

‘Cas, no one will think any different of you just because you need food instead of want it and won’t be able to lift a freakin’ anvil anymore. I’ll still love you. Sam’ll still love you, but obviously not in the same way as I do. Hell, even Claire and Alex and Donna and Jody will still love you. You’re one of the most loveable things that exists, man, whether you’re angel, human, or even a dumb toy doll that you’re turned into by a half-human half-demon kid. Yeah, I remember that. So don’t you worry about a thing.’

Castiel had been staring at Dean throughout the whole speech and had shown a flicker of surprise when Dean had mentioned the doll thing and started to softly smile after it. When he was sure Dean was done, he threw his arms around his neck. Dean put his arms around Cas’s waist and held him, inhaling his scent, feeling his shape, burying his face deep in his shoulder. Dean could feel Cas deflate as he inhaled, tension seeming to float out of him like letting the air out of a balloon. Castiel pulled away and took hold of both of Dean’s hands.

‘Thank you,’ he said blatantly. ‘I needed to hear that.’

‘Anytime,’ Dean promised. ‘Anything you need to hear, whenever, wherever, let me know and I’ll say all of it and more.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Cas replied with a small laugh. ‘I think we should stand up now. You must be extremely uncomfortable.’

‘My back hurts like hell and my right leg is so dead I’m pretty sure it’ll have to be amputated,’ Dean confirmed, making Cas laugh again as he stood up, dragging Dean’s arms with him while the rest of Dean stayed on the floor, wincing, and groaned, ‘help.’

Cas rolled his eyes and released Dean’s hands, bending over to allow Dean to use him as sort of a balance thing as he tried to keep his weight off of his right leg, shaking it out in an attempt to get the feeling back.

‘You’re so old,’ said Cas, looking at Dean with a weary sigh.

‘Well, aren’t you sweet,’ Dean said sarcastically. ‘Guess who’s not helping you up when you’re all human and old and have been sitting on the floor for five hours? Oh yeah, that’s right, _me_.’

‘It has not been five hours, Dean,’ Castiel scoffed.

‘Feels like it,’ Dean muttered.

Cas rolled his eyes.

‘Come on,’ he muttered, shaking his head with a sigh and some laughter, putting his arm around Dean while Dean put his arm over his shoulders. ‘Sit on the bed. Your leg will recover without amputation if you’re lucky.’

‘Gee, that’s encouraging,’ Dean said under his breath as Cas helped him towards the bed and sat down beside him and the new mattress.

When they went silent again, they looked at each other. It had been easy to come quickly out of the moment they’d been having right back to their old selves, then semi-back into the moment again. Dean’s adoring smile spread fast and his affection burned in his chest as he pulled the angel into his side. Cas would always be _his_ angel, whether he was an angel or not.

After sitting for a while, Dean massaging his thigh to try and get the blood flow to his lower leg, there was a knock on the door and Sam poked his head in and looked taken aback instantly.

‘You guys build fast,’ he commented, looking around the room. ‘This isn’t the final plan, is it? The stuff is all over the place.’

‘We’ll move it later,’ Dean said with an indifferent wave of his hand.

‘Yeah, you should do that,’ Sam agreed. ‘We just got pizza though, if you’re interested. Thought I’d let you guys know.’

‘I’m always interested when pizza’s involved,’ said Dean, standing up at once and wincing because his leg still felt stiff. ‘You in, Cas?’

Castiel nodded.

‘I’m in.’

Cas stood up by Dean’s side and the two of them left, following Sam to where the pizza was in the living room with the TV on and Friends playing, because that seemed to be the default background show. Aroura was in the room, awaiting Sam’s return, and smiled pleasantly at Dean and Cas as if seeing them for the first time that day, though technically she was. Dean still quite didn’t understand that part.

‘Hey, remind me I’ve got stuff for that fireplace in the car,’ Dean commented, acting as casually as he could and nodding towards the empty, unlit grate. ‘Pokers and stuff. Stuff to light it with. Could come in handy.’

‘Oh, that’s cool,’ Sam said approvingly. ‘We could light a fire on New Year’s Eve. Good thinking.’

The poor guy. He had no idea Lucifer was out there. And it was going to stay that way, but still. He looked so happy. If only he knew.

Despite Dean’s earlier assuring words, Cas was still pretty quiet to start out, chewing in silence, resting back against Dean. He seemed to lighten up more as some time went on, even laughing at things on screen and off, yet still no jokes of his own. Dean and Cas left about half an hour after the pizza was over and done with, excusing themselves saying that their room still needed a lot of work, which it did.

They thought the hardest part would be hauling the heavy furniture around the room into position and truth be told that part was pretty hard, but it wasn’t as hard as the dreaded bed sheets. Every time they tried to put the sheet on the mattress, at least one of the corners would spring right back off. The pillow cases were easy. But putting the duvet into the duvet cover? The hardest part of all. Even though Dean had Cas hold onto the corners opposite side he was working on, the sides refused to stay in place, which meant Dean had to crawl half way in and position them himself, declaring ‘I’m suffocating’ over dramatically as he attempted to crawl back out.

The high up stuff, like the ceiling light shade and the curtain rods, required the use of a chair. They used the chair from Cas’s (old) room that was going to be in this one anyway and managed to fix on the light and get the curtains and rods up without casualties.

Next they went to retrieve the stuff from the car and dumped it all on the freshly made bed, excluding the TV, which they put on the rug they’d put down on the floor and tackled, ripping the box open and hauling the thing out to mount it on the wall. They remembered how to do it from the living room one, so it didn’t take as long as they’d predicted it would. 

The final steps were taking Dean’s things and Cas’s things from their old rooms and putting them on the shelves that were assembled but not yet attached to the walls and transferring the clothes into the wardrobe and chest of drawers in the new room, but they decided to leave that for tomorrow. Dean sat down on the bed, looking around the room and looked at the printer still in its box sitting on top of the chest of drawers and gestured for Cas to sit next to him.

‘Not a bad job, right?’ Dean asked.

‘Not a bad job,’ Cas agreed. ‘In fact I’d say we did a good job.’

‘Yeah, I think so too,’ Dean agreed, nodding, throwing an arm around Cas. He rooted around in his pocket for a second. ‘Good enough to print out proof of our accomplishment for whenever we get around to trying to figure out the printer?’

Castiel nodded.

‘I think so.’

‘Great. Then smile, pal. This one’s gonna be a keeper.’

Dean pulled up the camera on his phone. He rarely used it, since they changed phones so often, but it was pretty easy to work out how to get the front camera up and extend his arm as far as he could to snap a picture of the two of them on their brand new bed, heads together, arms around each other. Dean had been right. It was definitely a keeper.

And also, technically, the first real picture of Dean and Cas, together, to exist.

There’d been that picture that one time years ago before Ellen and Jo died, but that had burned. And there were very few of Cas alone too; he guessed there’d been that time, a long time ago too, Dean had quickly taken a few snaps of Cas for his FBI badge, but that hardly counted. And there were the pictures in ridiculous clothes from Cas’s first Hot Topic trip with Sam, but that was it.

Dean made the picture his lock screen and his home screen. Cas watched him do it, holding him tightly and resting his head on his shoulder as he did.

‘I love you,’ Castiel stated.

‘I know,’ Dean replied. And then raised his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t mean to make this into a Han Solo thing. Shit. Sorry.’

It took Cas a minute to remember, but when he did he laughed.

‘It’s fine,’ he promised. He released Dean and stood up. ‘Come on. We should get back to the others for a few hours before bed.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed, getting to his feet. ‘Watch Ross pine for Rachel. See who wins what games. Listen to weird conversations. Maybe try to snap some more pictures to print. Is that weird?’

‘Probably,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘I’m doing anyway,’ said Dean. ‘I want to use what I didn’t pay for.’

Cas laughed, reaching out automatically for Dean’s hand which joined onto his as they left the room. It was funny how Dean could go from barely tolerating the pointless thing of holding the hand of another person to always wanting to be doing it.  

Once back in the living room, the atmosphere was more of a subdued one. There were multiple games going on which made Dean glad that Sam had suggested getting them because otherwise, what would they have done to keep themselves occupied? Dean didn’t even remember what normal people did, especially at holidays. When they entered the room, they were greeted as usual, and Sam spoke out.

‘Hey, you guys, all of us were just talking about seeing a movie tomorrow,’ he started. ‘Claire and Aroura talked about it the other day and told the rest of us just now.’

‘What movie?’ Dean asked, taking his place in his usual chair which seemed to have been left empty specifically for him and Cas.

‘The Force Awakens,’ Claire answered. ‘You guys need to see the glory that is Daisy Ridley.’

‘And Oscar Isaac,’ Alex added.

‘And John Boyega.’

‘And Adam Driver.’

‘And Lupita Nyong’o, though can’t really tell it’s her because she plays a weird alien thing.’

‘… Whoever they are,’ said Dean. ‘Where’s it playing?’

‘We looked it up. There’s a movie theater in Smith Center,’ Claire explained. ‘Aroura told me she saw it when she went driving with Sam the day after she arrived.’

‘It’s small, but it’s there,’ Aroura confirmed.

‘I’m in,’ Dean decided.

‘Me too,’ Cas agreed.

It was settled then. The plans were made and they’d go to see it the next day at two. So _that_ was what normal people did. Went out to see movies. Stayed in and watched TV. Went shopping. Weird. Normal probably also had jobs to go to, come to think of it, but during their time off … there must have been more to it. Whatever. Dean didn’t remember, and he didn’t want to know.

By the time it rolled around for people to start heading off, one by one, to bed, Dean had stopped trying to figure it out.

The new bedroom seemed empty despite being filled with furniture, and unfamiliar. The bed was cold but comfortable and the abundance of pillows was weird. There was even more pillows than in Cas’s room. Dean shifted a few of his onto Cas’s side of the bed as he shifted, trying to get used to the new mattress.

‘Something’s missing,’ Dean muttered, looking around the room as Cas got into bed next to him and stated moving pillows around.

‘The shelves aren’t up yet,’ Cas reminded him. ‘And the things that are on the shelf in your room and on your bedside tables aren’t in here yet.’

Dean looked around again.

‘Dude, we forgot to get bedside tables.’

Castiel looked around and realized he was right.

‘There’s always something,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Can’t we just use the ones from your room? Or … you’re old room?’

‘Yeah, we can,’ said Dean, nodding, ‘it’s just annoying. Damn it. I knew we’d forget something. And what the fuck are you doing with those pillows, dude?’

‘I’m making it so that I’m surrounded by soft objects to hold onto throughout the night depending on what position I’m in,’ Castiel stated clearly. ‘If I’m facing away from you, then there’s pillows to wrap my arms around with your warmth against my back. If I’m facing you, then I can hold you and have the pillows against my back.’

Dean frowned at him.

‘“Soft objects.”’

‘Perhaps “objects” wasn’t the best word to use.’

‘“Soft.”’

‘Yes, Dean. Soft. Why?’

Dean narrowed his eyes, looking suspicious but not hurt or angry.

‘Is that a joke about my stomach, you asshole?’

The manner in which he asked it made Cas laugh.

‘Of course not, Dean,’ he clarified. ‘I don’t mean parts of you are soft. In fact, they’re very hard, your arms especially. I just mean you’re …’

Castiel trailed off, trying to find the right word.

‘I’m?’ Dean prompted.

‘Embraceable,’ Castiel decided.

Dean raised his eyebrows, eyes still narrowed, folding his arms.

‘Is that just a fancy ass way of saying the word,’ Dean winced visibly, ‘“cuddly”?’

Castiel tried not to start laughing and the effort showed on his face.

‘I … I was trying to omit using that exact word,’ he said deliberately, ‘but if that’s the word you’d rather use …’

‘The fact that such a word exists disgusts me,’ Dean declared. ‘I want nothing to do with that god-awful mushy ass word. And the word I just said before ass, that one’s kinda gross too.’

Castiel smirked.

‘Mushy,’ he said.

‘Stop it,’ Dean demanded.

‘Cuddly.’

‘I said _stop_.’

‘Mushy and cuddly.’

‘Stop it, Cas!’

Very slowly, Castiel lifted himself from his sitting position beside Dean and began climbing over Dean, a leg either side of him.

‘What other words shouldn’t I say?’ he asked playfully. ‘Synonyms for the words in question?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Huggy?’ Cas asked, positioning himself over Dean and settling down there, getting comfortable. ‘Gushy? Gooey? _Smushy_?’

‘If you don’t stop right now, I swear I’ll throw you off of me.’

‘What about slushy?’ Castiel teased, grinning. ‘Or soppy? Sappy? Any other words I should be adding here, Dean?’

‘Well if you’re making a list of the ugliest words in existence, try adding moist and crusty to that list,’ Dean informed him, refusing to take part in this game. ‘Nothing worse than something moist. Or something crusty. Or something that’s moist and crusty.’

Castiel’s grinning face fell into a frown.

‘Moving on,’ he said, brushing past that, ‘is there something wrong with any of those words? Do you refuse to partake in activities associated with these words? Would you rather I took all of my soft, warm, _cuddly_ pillows and left you here alone?’

It was so unnatural to hear Cas, after all these years, saying the word “cuddly”. It just didn’t suit him. At all. But it also did. A lot. There were sides to Cas that Dean had never dared explore so they stayed hidden, but one of them seemed to be coming out tonight. The annoying cutsey-word-using little shit side.

‘If you leave, I’m taking those pillows and hitting you with them,’ Dean grumbled, snatching Cas’s face between his hands, kissing him hard and then shoving his shit-eating-grinning face away. ‘Now get the fuck off me before I rip your pants off. There’s no fucking lube in this room and I don’t feel like going to get it, and I swear if you keep looking like that you’re either gonna have to poke my eyes out so I can’t see it or fuck me.’

Castiel smirked. Very slowly, he shifted his lower half downwards and bent forward, pressing his chest against Dean’s. He kissed him slowly, one hand supporting himself and the other raking its way through the back of Dean’s hair. He very gradually lifted up, prolonging the connection of their lips as long as possible so that Dean’s were still puckered when he pulled away, and climbed out of his position just as leisurely. He settled himself back in beside him, manually taking hold of Dean’s arm and putting it around himself.

‘Better?’ Cas asked.

‘Sure,’ said Dean. ‘Better.’

Castiel raised an eyebrow.

‘Not better?’

‘There’s a hot guy right next to me that’s also fucking frustratingly cute who’s fucking messing with my mind here. What do you think?’

‘I think … you should lay down and try sleeping,’ Castiel said evenly, ‘because you’ve had a long day and I …’ He sighed. It still looked like it pained him to say it. ‘I’m tired, Dean, and I think my head hurts from all that … that crying earlier.’

‘Say no more,’ Dean said promptly, stretching over across some empty space next to the bed to reach the tall lamp near it and pull the string that switched it off. ‘Lay down. Get comfortable. Dream about me.’

‘I don’t dream, actually,’ Castiel informed him, turning on his side away from Dean as the two of them moved more into the center of the bed, their heads together on the middle pillow.

‘Still?’ Dean asked, lying next to Cas, facing the same way as him. The position of having his arm thrown over Cas as they slept was rapidly becoming his go-to and was actually a lot more comfortable than being on his back or front.

‘Still,’ Cas told him. ‘I’ve never dreamed. Not even when I was human. Not now on my path towards humanity again. It’s quite sad, actually. I’d like to dream.’

‘Maybe you will,’ Dean replied optimistically. ‘One day. You never know.’

‘Maybe,’ Cas mused. He stared blankly ahead of him, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. ‘If I’m lucky.’

‘I think you’ve been pretty lucky so far,’ Dean reasoned. ‘You got me. We’ve got a big-ass bed. We met God. My crotch is totally against your ass right now. It’s all good. All good things.’

Castiel pressed back lightly on purpose, further clarifying he crotch-to-ass thing.

‘You’re right, you know,’ Castiel agreed, reaching out one arm and scooping his pillows closer to him to wrap his arms around. ‘You’re always right. Well, almost always.’

‘Yeah I am,’ Dean said smugly, grinning to himself in the dark. He buried his face in Cas’s neck and kissed it once. ‘Anyway. Night, Cas.’

‘Goodnight,’ Castiel replied quietly.

He awoke like he had the previous morning. Hungry and needing to pee. Dean was still asleep, so he went off and took care of the latter before he awoke, slipping back into bed when he was done and staring at Dean’s snoozing face. He still didn’t like this whole sleeping thing or anything else that came with it for that matter, but he was growing used to it. There was no use in getting down about it every morning anymore since there was nothing he could do to stop it. He ran over all of Dean’s words of comfort in his head while staring at the freckles on Dean’s eyelids which he could see in the light peeking in through the curtains, and it was all good.

Cas wormed his way into Dean’s arms without waking him, listening to the steady rhythm of Dean’s breathing and trailing his fingers up and down the smooth, warm skin of his arms. He could tell when he started to wake up because he started to move more and tightened his grip on Cas. Cas could tell when he was fully awake when he felt lips on his forehead and looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes.

‘Hey,’ Dean breathed, his voice sounding still weak and broken up from sleeping. He cleared his throat to fix that.

‘Hello,’ Castiel replied. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Had a dream about a cat,’ Dean muttered, closing his eyes again. ‘Don’t even like cats much. But it had these big blue eyes and when I started scratching it behind the ears it started talking with a grown man’s voice, and this thing was tiny … pretty freaky. But pretty sure you were the cat.’

Castiel raised his eyebrows, laughing softly.

‘Well, I can assure you that I’m not actually a cat, Dean.’

‘Yeah, no shit. I got that the first time I saw you with your pants off and realized you didn’t have a tail.’

‘Actually, manx cats don’t have tails,’ Castiel informed him. ‘But I think the main thing that’s shocking here is the fact that you had a dream about a cat.’

‘Yeah, that’s a fucking first alright,’ Dean mumbled, starting to sit up. ‘Weird as fuck.’

‘Dreaming about talking cats is better than not dreaming at all,’ Cas pointed out.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Dean agreed. He groaned. ‘Come on then. Time to get up I suppose.’

Castiel nodded and climbed out of bed, immediately beginning to make the bed. Dean had already started towards the door, throwing on his shirt from yesterday as he went, just to cover up for the trip through the hallways, but when he saw what Cas was doing he doubled back to help him, and the bed was made in silence. Afterwards, Dean waited while Cas pulled on yesterday’s sweater and then they headed to Cas’s old room for him to grab an outfit for the day, then to Dean’s for him to do the same. Then they headed off to the bathroom.

‘Can I borrow a razor again today?’ Castiel asked as they walked. ‘I didn’t get to shave yesterday and I feel like it would probably be starting to show today.’

‘It is,’ Dean said as they walked, ‘it’s hot,’ he added, ‘and you can.’

‘Thank you,’ said Cas. ‘And you think everything is hot.’

‘If it’s on you, then yeah, it’s automatically hot.’

Castiel rolled his eyes as they reached the bathroom and Dean closed the door behind him.

‘Is there also a toothbrush I could use?’ he asked. ‘There’s an odd taste in my mouth that I would like to be rid of.’

‘Yeah, we buy those in packs of three whenever we get new ones,’ said Dean. ‘So there’s probably one there. Cabinet under the sink.’

Dean had already stripped off and was in the shower, adjusting the temperature of the water. Cas opened up the cabinet, peered inside and saw the pack with one brush left in it.

‘It’s there,’ Castiel confirmed, nudging the cabinet shut and starting to undress.

‘Good. Now get in here,’ Dean commanded.

With another eye roll, Cas did as requested.

It was a quick, efficient shower with minimal distraction and some kissing against the wall, a little ass grabbing, but nothing extreme. They shaved side by side again, Cas managing to not get distracted as much as the last time by Dean. But then, when it came to tooth brushing and Dean saw how Cas skipped putting the paste on the brush and instead put it straight into his mouth he had to spit and put his brush down.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Dean demanded.

‘What?’

‘Are you fucking _kidding_ me?’

‘What are you _talking_ about?’

‘How the hell can you just straight up squirt that shit into your mouth like that?’ he asked, looking completely disgusted. ‘Dude, you put it on the _brush_.’

‘Well, I choose to do it this way,’ Castiel said after spitting, shrugging in response.

Dean looked completely repulsed.

‘You disgust me,’ he stated. And then he rushed to add, ‘just because of that though. You don’t _actually_ disgust me.’

‘I know, Dean.’

‘Good. Just making sure.’

And then they got right back to it.

Castiel, now minty fresh, fully dressed and with his messy hair hiding under a beanie, kissed Dean after a quick ‘see you at breakfast’ and left. Dean watched him go, smiling to himself, glad that Cas hadn’t awoken with a heavy case of the blues this morning like the last few.

Cas entered the kitchen and found it almost empty apart from Sam, standing by the toaster. He grinned at Cas as he entered.

‘Morning,’ Sam greeted. ‘Pop tart?’

Castiel frowned.

‘You’re having pop tarts for breakfast?’

‘Yeah, not that healthy, I know,’ said Sam, ‘but everything’s been out the window these past few days. I’ll be back to normal once the holidays are over. So, pop tart?’

Castiel had never had a pop tart before, but he’d seen them in stores.

‘Sure,’ he accepted. ‘Are there any more? I’d like to have some ready for Dean.’

‘Yeah, the box is there,’ said Sam, nodding at the box near the toaster. ‘These won’t take long. Then we can put in another batch.’

‘Where is everyone?’ Cas asked.

‘Well, when I woke up there was a note from Aroura saying she went out for some air,’ Sam started, making Cas raise an eyebrow but quickly lower it before Sam could notice, ‘and Claire and Donna are in the room the tree is in. Jody and Alex aren’t up yet. And Dean?’

‘I left him in the bathroom.’

Sam nodded, then jumped as the toaster popped when he wasn’t expecting it. Cas snickered.

‘So what do you guys actually _do_ when it comes to night time?’ Sam asked inquisitively, while putting the hot pop tarts onto a plate then putting some more in the toaster for when Dean arrived.

‘What do you mean?’ Cas asked, frowning.

‘You don’t sleep,’ Sam stated with a shrug, gesturing for Cas to take one of the pop tarts on the plate, which he did, Sam taking one himself also. ‘So how does that work?’

Castiel shrugged and answered like he would have if this question was asked before he himself had started needing to sleep.

‘Dean and I do whatever it is we do until Dean grows tired, and then he says goodnight and goes to sleep. I spend the remainder of the night either watching Netflix at a very low volume, or simply thinking and losing track of time if I’m not in a position where I can watch Netflix without disturbing Dean. And then, in the morning, he wakes up and we go about regular morning actives and then we have breakfast.’

‘Seems simple enough,’ Sam commented. ‘So really not much has changed. You Netflix. Dean sleeps. You just do it in the same room.’

‘Basically,’ Cas agreed.

‘And you guys don’t even seem that different,’ Sam continued thoughtfully. ‘Just … more comfortable. Happier. You still look at each other the same way, act the same way … have I heard that he still calls you shit like “buddy” and “pal” and all that stuff?’

Castiel nodded, shrugging.

‘Should he not?’

‘It’s not that he shouldn’t … but couples usually don’t call each other stuff like that. They take on nicknames like “baby” or “sweetie” or stuff like that.’

‘Well, I’m not the Impala,’ Cas pointed out, cancelling out the first suggestion, ‘nor am I particularly sweet. If you haven’t noticed, Dean and I are kind of assholes to each other much of the time.’

Sam laughed.

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed. You two are a real match for each other. It’s unusual to see that side of you.’

‘People change naturally and circumstantially,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘It’s to be expected.’

‘Yeah, you have a point there,’ Sam granted. ‘I guess Dean doesn’t seem like the cute-nickname type, does he?’

‘Not particularly. It depends on the situation.’

‘That’s true,’ Sam agreed, then smirked. ‘So, sick of him yet?’ he asked, while he put the pop tarts from the just-popped toaster onto a plate to await Dean.

‘Of course not,’ Castiel said, looking almost offended. ‘I could never be sick of Dean. He’s wonderful, and amusing even when his jokes are bad, and there are sides to him I’m sure you couldn’t possibly have ever seen that make him so much more astonishing than he already is in daily life.’

‘So basically he hasn’t done any of the gross stuff yet,’ Sam stated.

Cas narrowed his eyes.

‘The gross stuff?’

‘You know. Peeing in the shower. Farting in bed. Picking his nose and flicking off the boogers. Asking you to –’

‘ _Eugh_ ,’ Cas groaned. ‘Sam, please. That’s disgusting. Dean would never do any of that.’

‘Everyone does it,’ Sam said with a shrug. ‘Dean’s not an expectation.

‘ _Sam_.’

‘I’m just messing with you, Cas,’ said Sam, laughing at Cas’s repulsed look. ‘I’m sure Dean’s the perfect gentleman. But he’s my brother, I’m supposed to make fun of him.’

Cas rolled his eyes.

‘There’s not many ways you’ll be able to do that,’ said Dean, entering the room. ‘You, though. Oh man. There’s so many things to make fun of I’d need to write them all down and do them in order.’

‘Ha ha,’ Sam stated, clearly unamused.

‘We saved you pop tarts,’ said Cas, gesturing the second plate.

‘Great. Thanks,’ Dean said cheerfully, grabbing the plate straight away. ‘So, am I interrupting something? Need me to leave so you two can finish gossiping about me like two little old ladies at the hair salon?’

‘I’m just warning Cas about what’s to come,’ Sam said offhandedly. ‘Either that or attempting to break you two up so I can have him instead. Right, Cas?’

Castiel raised his eyebrows slowly.

‘Sure,’ he replied.

‘You haven’t a hope in hell, so don’t even bother to joke about it,’ Dean said confidently, standing right next to Cas and clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Right?’

‘It’s true that you do have many better qualities than Dean,’ Cas joked, directing it at Sam, ‘but your height is intimidating and your lack of freckles gives me nothing to try and map on you. I’m sorry, but I think I’ll stick with the Winchester I’ve already got.’

‘Heck yeah,’ Dean said proudly, through a full mouth. ‘Stuff it, Sammy.’

Sam looked from Dean to Cas and raised his eyebrows. In reference to Dean talking with his mouth full, he mouthed, ‘the gross stuff’ and Cas rolled his eyes.

‘One day I’ll make Sastiel a thing,’ Sam declared, ‘just you wait and see. You’re not the only one the fans of those books will want with Cas.’

‘Sastiel?’ Cas asked. ‘Book fans? What are you talking about?’

‘Oh yeah, you don’t know about that!’ Sam said a little too excitedly. ‘Let me tell you all about it.’

Dean rolled his eyes and moved over to sit at the table as Sam and Cas stayed standing by the toaster, apparently oblivious to the fact that they could sit down. Sam elaborated on the whole thing of the case they’d taken at that high school where a Supernatural musical had been going on, much to the surprise of Cas.

‘“Destiel”?’ Castiel asked, trying out the unfamiliar word when Sam mentioned it. ‘Shouldn’t it be Dea-stiel?’

‘That’s what I said too!’ Sam said in enthusiastic agreement. ‘But no, it’s Destiel. Weird, right?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel agreed.

‘Destiel can kick Sastiel’s sorry ass any day,’ Dean muttered from the table, staring into the coffee he’d gotten up to get when Sam was going on about the opening number.

‘Do I even want to know what the hell that means?’ Alex asked, arriving in the kitchen.

‘No,’ Dean advised her.

‘Dean was super pissed about the whole Destiel thing,’ Sam told Cas. ‘He wouldn’t talk about it. He thinks I didn’t catch him singing “I’ll Just Wait Here Then” to himself four or five times over the next few days.’

‘What’s that?’ Cas asked.

‘It’s a song that Cas – or you – the Castiel actress – sang in the show,’ Sam explained. ‘It was pretty cute. I think some people in the audience cried.’

‘They _cried_?’

‘Crazy, I know,’ said Sam with a shake of his head. ‘The show was pretty weird really, but it wasn’t bad. Dean liked it.’

‘Did not,’ Dean mumbled.

‘Liar,’ Sam retorted.

‘You two have worked some extremely odd jobs that I don’t know about,’ Castiel said, frowning at the two of them and noticing that Alex, who had gotten a bowl of cereal and sat across from Dean, looked like she could bust out laughing at any moment. ‘First I find out about Dean becoming a dog for an afternoon. And now I find out about this musical and this … this _Destiel_ thing. What else am I missing out on?’

Sam and Dean exchanged a wary look.

‘So should we start with the suicidal teddy bear or the killer clown?’ Dean asked.

‘Or the time you got ghost fever and were too afraid to go to the fourth floor of a building?’ Sam suggested.

‘That one,’ said Cas. ‘Definitely that one.’

‘The fourth floor?’ Alex asked, raising her eyebrows at Dean. ‘Really?’

‘Don’t judge me,’ Dean said defensively. ‘To someone who’s afraid of everything, that’s _high_.’

Alex rolled her eyes.

‘Sure it is.’

‘Tell me about the ghost fever,’ Cas insisted.

Sam smirked to himself, and started the story.

Sam and Dean ended up recalling a lot of their weirder cases and telling them to Cas and Alex, and then to Jody when she got up, then to Donna and Claire when they decided to relocate and join them. When Aroura arrived back Sam told her that they were talking about things from the fictional books where there were characters based on them and they continued with the stories, changing the wording to make it seem like they were remembering them from the books. Although Dean and Cas knew for a fact Aroura knew every single thing that happened in those books, she managed to appear as though this was the most ridiculous stuff she’d ever heard.

Dean had intended upon escaping after breakfast and making a start on the shelves and the transfer of clothes, but they ended up talking for a long time, relocating again to the living room, the TV on in background, questions being asked as the stories went on from the odd to the weird to the ones that were actually just plain scary, like the whole Bloody Mary thing.

‘I know she’s dead, but suddenly I never want to look in a mirror again,’ said Claire, looking uncomfortable, so the story was changed to one that Cas actually knew but was being told for the benefit of the others; the one with the old man and the cartoons and the cat that really hated that mouse.

‘“I’ll interrogate the cat?”’ Donna asked, raising her eyebrows at Cas.

Castiel raised his hands in his defense, glad for the lie he could use in this situation.

‘Don’t blame me. I didn’t write the books.’

‘That’s not the only ridiculous Cas moment there is,’ Dean cut in. ‘Let me tell you all about the whole good-cop-bad-cop thing he attempted once. In the book I said it to him then and I’m saying it again now: he wasn’t being bad cop. He was being bad _everything_.’

Castiel, on Dean’s lap as usual due to the lack of seating, frowned at Dean and folded his arms.

‘I don’t like you any more,’ he decided, turning very obviously away from him, sitting forwards on his lap.

‘Sit on the floor, then,’ Dean suggested.

‘Suddenly I like you again,’ said Cas, turning back towards Dean and putting his arms around his neck.

‘That’s what I thought,’ Dean smirked. ‘But I’m still telling the story.’

They didn’t spend the _entire_ time between breakfast and going to the movies at two talking about this stuff, but it came close. They took breaks in between to simply relax and watch what the TV was displaying for their entertainment, jumping into story mode again if something on screen reminded them of something amusing, weird or scary they could tell.

They left so that they’d arrive ten minutes before the movie was due to start, giving them time to buy snacks after they got their tickets and then comfortably get to their seats. Cas told Dean to save his for him for a minute, which Dean did, wondering what Cas was up to when he left and returned a few minutes later and took his seat next to Dean, joining their hands just behind the large tub of popcorn they were sharing on the arm rest.

Cas thoroughly enjoyed the whole movie theater experience and was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the screen and volume of the audio. He also enjoyed the movie; they all did, and were discussing it as they left, even those who had already seen it. Cas’s favorite character was Poe and Dean liked Poe a lot too, but he preferred Finn, and even more preferred Han. He jumped violently at that one Kylo/Han scene that he had not been expecting _at all_ and complained about it for most of the drive back to the bunker.

Once back at the bunker, it was time to tackle the putting up of shelves. Dean and Cas disappeared into their bedroom and started on the annoyingly difficult task.

‘Hey, I meant to ask you earlier, but where’d you go before the movie started?’ Dean asked from one side of one shelf they were trying to get straight.

Cas grimaced.

‘I had to take care of a human thing.’

Dean nodded, understanding.

‘Seems like you get more human every day, huh?’

‘Seems like it,’ Cas agreed.

Dean was just happy to hear he didn’t seem to be upset about it.

It took longer than they predicted to get the shelves up and straight. Once they had, the moving of Dean’s stuff went by fast, and then the moving of clothes went by more slowly than they’d anticipated kind of like the shelves, but they got it done. Then they brought in the bedside tables and boom, the bedroom was done. It didn’t seem as empty and foreign any more, but still new.

‘Not bad,’ Dean commented, looking around the finished room.

‘I agree,’ said Castiel, sliding his hand into Dean’s and looking around. ‘So what are we supposed to do now?’

‘Go out and join the rest of them and figure out what we’re doing for dinner later, probably,’ said Dean.

‘Dinner …’ Cas repeated. ‘I know we only ate a short while ago during the movie, but I’m beginning to feel hungry again. Is that normal?’

‘For a guy who barely ate a thing for seven years, probably,’ Dean joked, then a sudden thought struck him and he frowned to himself.

‘Something wrong?’ Castiel asked, noting Dean’s sudden change in expression.

‘No,’ Dean said, hesitating a moment, ‘but hey. Sit with me a second, would you? I need to ask you something.’

‘Of course, Dean,’ Castiel said sincerely as Dean led him over to the bed and they sat by side. ‘Ask me anything.’

Dean hesitated again, knowing this was probably still a sensitive subject. He tried to find the best way to word it.

‘When you’re human ...’ he began at a slow pace, ‘how exactly do you plan on hiding that from Sam? And from everyone else for that matter.’

Castiel looked like he was in serious thought for a moment. He moved his mouth a few times but not in a way that indicated speech, until he took a deep breath and wavered, knowing Dean would find fault in what he was about to say.

‘I was going to continue hiding it the way we’re hiding it now,’ he said steadily. ‘It seems to be working out well.’

Dean heaved a sigh. Cas had been expecting as much. Dean tenderly placed his hand on Cas’s knee.

‘Come on, Cas. We both know that’s not going to work. We can’t keep something this big secret forever.’

‘Why not?’ Castiel asked. ‘It’s going well. No one suspects a thing.’

‘That’s because you’re not _human_ yet,’ Dean stressed. ‘What’s some extra food, some sleep and a piss here and there? That’s nothing. But when you’re fully human, you know it’s gonna be obvious.’

‘I don’t see how,’ Castiel replied. ‘I began eating regularly before we noticed my grace diminishing. Nobody comes into our bedroom at night, so nobody sees that we’re both sleeping. Humans tend to keep their bathroom habits private. There’s not much else that can change.’

‘You’d think that, but there’s more to it you haven’t thought about,’ Dean said softly. ‘You’ve been human before. You _know_ there’s more.’

‘Nothing that I can’t keep hidden,’ Castiel said, shrugging his shoulders.

‘So if Sam asks you for help lifting something no human can lift?’

‘I can … lie,’ Cas sad uneasily, ‘and say it’s too heavy for angels too.’

‘And if one of us gets hurt real bad and need to be healed up?’

‘I could disappear for several days and pretend I was doing something important while you go to a hospital after not being able to wait for me.’

‘And if _you_ get messed up?’

Castiel swallowed, looking down.

‘I don’t know,’ he answered quietly.

‘Or if you get sick,’ Dean added.

‘I … I don’t know.’

‘So then how are you – no, _we_ – going to explain this?’

Castiel thought for a moment, his eyes on the floor. Nothing he could think of seemed good enough but he couldn’t say _nothing_. And then it struck him as if out of nowhere, when he looked at Dean who didn’t look how he usually did when making a plan, all serious and hard faced and determined, but instead looked gentle and almost sympathetic.

‘When it becomes obvious that we can no longer hide this, you and I take a job across the country together,’ Castiel started, ‘and our excuse for Sam not coming with us is that we need someone to stay behind for research and the reason that it’s not you two going and me staying as usual is because it’s a case involving angels. Angels that I know personally. And when we come back, we say that there was a fight. A fight where … where they attacked me directly and stole my grace as some kind of revenge for something they blame me for. We managed to kill the angels in question, but not before one of them ingested my grace and when the angel died, my grace died inside of them.’

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he no longer looked sympathetic, but impressed.

‘That actually seems like a foolproof plan,’ he approved. ‘So what do we do when we’re supposed to be off on this case?’

‘Actually take a case?’ Cas suggested.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Dean agreed. ‘If either of us get beat up during it then it’ll make our story seem in even more realistic. Say the angels did it.’

Castiel nodded. Dean smiled at him.

‘So is that all?’ Cas asked.

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ Dean nodded. ‘Let’s go see with the others are up to and grab you a snack before we figure out what the plans for dinner are. Sound good?’

‘Sounds good,’ Cas confirmed.

They rose and headed for the door, hand in hand. Now that Dean had mentioned it, Castiel was going over the unfortunate parts of being human in his head over and over. All the ‘what if’s and the ‘what happens when’s he could think of ran through his mind as they headed to the living room.

All of a sudden, the future seemed ominous.


	22. I Dream of Luci

Castiel ignored his impending humanity for the rest of the day. They all had different dinners, picking from the selection of food they had. They were all good and easily prepared, and after dinner most of them returned to the living room. Claire, Alex and Aroura chose to return to the long tabled room after grabbing the game from the living room, and play a three-way game of Twister.

Dean and Cas played some one-on-one Monopoly, the Star Wars edition, while simultaneously complaining that Rey wasn’t included in it, but Vader was even though his stupid beat up helmet was only in the movie for three fucking seconds. Their game, despite the fact that the other three in the room were playing Sorry! was well watched. When the Twister-trio returned from their twisted state, Claire and Alex both chose to do nothing _but_ watch the game and each one took a side, Alex routing for Dean, Claire routing for Cas. Aroura chose to join the game of Clue from Hot Topic that was played after Sorry! and watch what was on the television in the background.

Dean won the game and listening to him gloat about it was painful. Cas just stared at him, bored looking with a hint of annoyance until he shut up about it.

‘Don’t worry,’ Dean added, giving an annoyingly sweet smile that was rarely seen on him, ‘I’m sure you’ll win next time. Unless you’re playing against me, because then you’ll obviously lose.’

‘If I could ban you from playing board games, I would,’ Castiel muttered under his breath.

‘Don’t let your wife tell you what to do,’ Alex encouraged Dean. ‘He’s not the boss of you.’

‘I said if I _could_ ,’ Castiel clarified. ‘And I’m not the wife. _Dean’s_ the wife.’

‘I agree,’ Sam chipped in.

‘Oh yeah, Dean’s the wife for sure,’ Donna agreed.

Dean glared at them all.

‘Shut up,’ he muttered sulkily.

Around eight when the group tired of Friends in the background, games and chatter, they decided to watch a movie. There was a series of rock-paper-scissors games to determine who chose it and Dean won so they all ended up watching The Addams Family, a movie Dean hadn’t seen in a while but enjoyed when he watched it. It was good to watch someone else’s perspective on ghouls and monsters once in a while, to try and forget what real ghouls and monsters were actually like.

It wasn’t even ten yet when the movie finished, ten to actually, but they group decided to call it an early night. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve and they’d be celebrating that most likely into the early hours of the morning.

When Dean and Cas got to their bedroom, the first thing Dean spotted was his basked of laundry which he’d left by the chair. He’d been meaning to do laundry for a while but had been too preoccupied with other things to get around to it, but tonight things seemed pretty calm and it was still early; he could put his stuff on a two hour cycle and put it in the dryer at midnight then take it out in the morning.

‘Have you got anything you wanna throw in with the laundry?’ Dean asked, starting to change into something more casual and tossing today’s clothes into the laundry basket too. He’d changed into a pair of old sweats he’d been sleeping in for years, and one of the brand new AC/DC shirts Cas had gotten him for Christmas. When Cas saw it, he smiled softly do himself.

‘The things I’ve already worn over the course of the past ten or more days,’ said Cas, nodding. ‘I’ve been thinking about washing them. I placed them all in the same section of the wardrobe.’

‘Well get them out, toss them in the basket, get your ass into something more comfortable and meet me in the laundry room,’ Dean requested.

Cas took the things from the wardrobe and placed then in the basket. Dean gave him the thumbs up and grabbed the basket and swept out of the room. In the laundry room he started tossing his stuff into the machine, making sure there was nothing he’d have to wash separately. Cas showed up when Dean was putting a color catcher sheet in, wearing a Supernatural shirt, Supernatural pajama pants and eating a bowl of cereal he’d obviously grabbed from the kitchen on the way.

‘Anything you want me to take out and wash separate?’ Dean asked before he closed the machine.

‘No, that’s alright,’ Cas replied. ‘How long will it take?’

‘Two hours,’ said Dean, pouring in detergent. ‘Why?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘I just wondered,’ he said indifferently. ‘I was just thinking that we always seem to be the last two up, that’s all.’

‘We’re probably not, though,’ said Dean. He turned the machine on and gestured the door with his head and they started walking. ‘You can bet Sam and Aroura are up for a while after they go to bed. Claire and Alex probably hang out in each others’ rooms talking about … whatever they talk about. God knows what Jody and Donna do. Alone time to relax I guess. You just think we’re the last ones up because we’re the ones that are always running back and forth to the bathroom to wipe down.’

Castiel nodded.

‘You’re right. I’ve just never thought about it before.’ He paused. ‘So what do we do for the two hours we’re waiting for the laundry?’

‘The usual?’ Dean suggested. ‘Go back to our room and break in the new bed while we both wear lipstick and then watch some Grey’s?’

‘That sounds pleasant,’ Castiel said, nodding.

‘Or,’ Dean countered, ‘we could take advantage of the fact that everyone’s in their rooms and get crazy. Listen to some music. Cook some shit. You seem hungry.’

‘It’s strange,’ Castiel mused. ‘I seem to be almost continually hungry today. Perhaps that will die down as the change continues? I don’t remember being this hungry when I was human before.’

‘It’s just one of those days, I guess,’ said Dean with a shrug. ‘Some days I could eat everything in the fridge and still be hungry. Other days I could be so wrapped in something that I forget to eat until four.’

‘I can’t even imagine you forgetting to eat,’ Castiel said, shaking his head with a laugh. ‘It’s impossible.’

‘It’s rare,’ Dean agreed, ‘but it happens. Dude, stop laughing, it _happens_!’

‘I believe you,’ Castiel replied, his laugh tapering off, ‘I just can’t imagine it. So where are we going?’

‘Gotta grab my phone for tunes,’ Dean told him. ‘I prefer cassette tapes, but Sam showed me this app called Spotify a few months back that I sometimes use if I’ve got nothing to play my tapes on. I usually only listen through headphones. I’ve got a playlist of … of some guilty pleasures of mine,’ Dean said carefully.

‘Guilty pleasures?’ Cas asked, his eyebrows raised.

‘Taylor Swift opened a lot of doors for me,’ Dean admitted.

‘I still don’t know how to the door to Taylor Swift was opened in the first place.’

‘It’s a long story. I’ll explain some other time. So what do you feel like eating?’

‘Whatever’s there,’ Cas shrugged.

They grabbed Dean’s phone from their bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Cas had finished his cereal and brought the bowl to the sink to wash. Dean looked through some of the cupboards.

‘What about spaghetti and meatballs?’ he suggested. ‘Or spaghetti cabonara? We don’t have parmesan, but I’ve made it with cheddar before and it still tastes good.’

Castiel turned away from the sink to frown at Dean.

‘You know different types of cheeses?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘And you _cook_?’

‘You don’t think we survive on shitty takeout food and diner food every day, do you?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘We’d be dead from some kind of fat-related heart failure by now if that was the case.’

‘I’ve never really thought about it,’ Cas shrugged. ‘But _you_ cook?’

‘Of course I fucking do. I’ve been cooing for Sam since I was a kid and it’s not all just tinned spaghetti and toast, you know. Kids get bored of that shit, you’ve gotta experiment with stuff.’

‘I just can’t imagine you cooking, besides frying things and ready meals. And using pancake mix, I suppose,’ Castiel said thoughtfully, a slow smile starting to spread. ‘I’ve never imagined the two of you doing mundane things such as cooking and cleaning and shopping and laundry. It wasn’t until I moved in here that I realized those are things that have to be done. And it wasn’t until recently that I started paying attention to them.’

‘Yeah, well we do that boring shit,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So do you want the cabonara or not?’

‘Is that the one with the white sauce and bits of bacon in it?’

‘Yeah. Want it?’

‘Please.’

Dean grinned and winked.

‘It’s times like these I wish I had one of those “kiss the chef” aprons. But whatever. Stand back, I’ll turn the music on, we can have a good time.’

Smiling contentedly, Cas put his now-dry bowl and spoon away as Dean did something on his phone and suddenly a song Cas had heard on the radio many times started playing around them. Dean adjusted the volume as Cas stared. It was fucking One Direction. Dean caught a glimpse of Cas’s face as he grabbed pans.

‘Shut up,’ he told him firmly, pointing a finger at him.

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Cas said innocently.

‘Shut up anyway.’

Cas laughed and said nothing, taking a seat and watching Dean flit about the kitchen, doing this and that while making their meal. He walked to the beat of the music at times, looking a little like he was almost … almost _dancing_. But that was clearly implausible, Dean would never do such a thing.

But he was. Dean Winchester was dancing around the kitchen to the most unexpected definitely-not-rock songs, cooking and wearing the clothes he wore to sleep in. Cas could hardly believe his eyes, especially when “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” came on and Dean started fucking _lip syncing_ and walking towards Cas in a full blown dramatic performance.

And then Cas was pulled to his feet and his body was jerked in all kinds of ways that it had never been jerked before and he was dancing, actually _dancing_ around the kitchen with Dean and he was laughing gleefully, forgetting everything, as two pots simmered on the stove. And then the song was over, now playing “Somewhere Only We Know” and they slowed, Cas resting his head on Dean’s shoulder as they moved slowly, holding onto each other.

And then they caught site of Claire in the doorway, her phone pointed at them, and they stopped. She had the biggest crooked smile they’d ever seen on her face.

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, lowering her phone, ‘but I had to. That was the dorkiest and the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.’

Dean couldn’t meet her eyes and faked a cough, walking over the stove to check on his sauce and spaghetti.

‘Don’t apologize,’ Castiel said, rolling his eyes at Dean’s adorable embarrassment.

‘I can send you the video,’ said Claire, ‘if you want.’

‘I don’t have my phone with me, unfortunately,’ Castiel replied, ‘but thank you for offering.’

‘You can send it to mine,’ Dean said, trying to sound casual even though Cas could clearly see he was blushing. He cleared his throat again. ‘However you do that.’

‘I can do it through Bluetooth,’ Claire told him. ‘Is yours on?’

‘Blue what?’

‘I’ll take that as a no,’ Claire said, rolling her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you how to do it.’

‘No, it’s fine, you can do it,’ Dean shrugged, picking up his phone and handing it to her. ‘I have to keep an eye on this stuff anyhow,’ he said, gesturing the pots.

‘Alright. It won’t take long.’ Claire lit the screen of Dean’s phone. ‘Nice picture.’

‘Thank you,’ Dean muttered, clearly still bashful.

Castiel had to resist the urge to laugh at Dean’s awkwardness. He greatly liked all the new sides of Dean he was discovering. Claire, true to her word, wasn’t long and handed Dean back his phone.

‘It’s in your camera roll,’ she told him.

‘Thanks,’ Dean replied.

Claire went to a cupboard and grabbed two small bags of chips and took some biscuits from a biscuit tin.

‘Exciting night planned?’ Castiel asked conversationally.

‘Watching Youtube videos on Alex’s tablet,’ said Claire. ‘So exciting. We’ll have a _wild_ time.’

Castiel noted the casual use of her humorous sarcasm. It reminded him of Dean.

‘Have fun,’ he offered.

‘You guys too,’ Claire smiled. ‘Night.’

Dean and Cas said ‘night’ a half second apart. She smiled at them before exiting the room.

‘She’s sweet,’ Dean commented. ‘Tends to show up at awkward times, but sweet.’

‘Yes, she is,’ Castiel agreed. ‘And it’s thanks to her that we now have evidence of you _dancing_.’

‘Yeah, well, don’t get used to this,’ Dean brushed off. ‘It doesn’t happen often. Usually only when I’m here alone and Sam’s out. Or when I’m in my room with the door locked and my headphones on. A guy’s gotta unwind once in a while, you know? Dance it out. Like Mer and Christina.’

‘I understand,’ said Cas, nodding. ‘I’m just glad that you feel comfortable to unwind with me present. I enjoy seeing you happy and relaxed.’

‘I’m glad you’re here too,’ Dean agreed. ‘It’s more fun with two. But we’ve gotta put this on hold – the food’s ready. Are we having it in here or in the bedroom?’

Castiel thought it over for a moment.

‘In the bedroom,’ he decided. ‘But be careful not to spill anything on the sheets, I quite like them.’

‘I can promise I’ll try when it comes to food, said Dean, straining the spaghetti, ‘but when it comes to sex later, I’m not making any promises.’

‘Of course you’re not,’ Cas replied with a roll of his eyes.

They headed to the bedroom with their plates and climbed onto the bed rather than into it. Dean grabbed the TV remote and switched the TV on for the first time. It was easy to hook it up to Netflix and get Grey’s playing again. When they finished their food they left their plates on one of the bedside tables and got under the covers, Dean resting against Cas’s chest rather than the usual vice versa. When the episode ended, Dean shut the TV off. Castiel frowned at him.

‘What did you do that for?’ he asked.

Dean didn’t speak. He wordlessly got out of bed and went towards the chest of drawers. He opened the bottom drawer and crouched down, pulled something out, then dropped his pants and underwear. Castiel raised his eyebrows slowly and watched Dean slowly step into something, pulling them slowly up his legs. It was one of the remaining pairs of Supernatural panties from the three pack he’d gotten. He bent over again, very deliberately and picked up three more items; two lipsticks and the lube. He picked the deep red lipstick and applied it in the mirror and put the lipstick back in the drawer. He took the lube and the other lipstick back to the bed, straddled Cas beneath the covers and put the other, hot pink, lipstick on him.

‘These colors are going to smear all over the place,’ Cas informed him matter-of-factly.

‘Lesbians don’t seem to mind,’ Dean replied indifferently.

‘Fair enough.’

Dean grinned and got right to doing that smearing. In his opinion, the colors looked good mixed together. And the mixed colors from Dean’s lips looked even better on Cas’s neck. Dean rocked his hips back and forth as he sucked lightly on Cas’s neck. Cas placed his hands on Dean’s hips. Dean dragged his lips over Cas’s jaw. When he got back to his lips, he kissed him once and then let his lips hover over them.

‘Fuck me. Now. Please,’ he murmured, the vibrations of his speech tickling Cas’s lips.

‘Get on your knees,’ Castiel murmured back. ‘And leave your shirt on.’

Cas liked Dean wearing the shirt that was from him.

Dean gladly followed the order. Castiel kneeled behind him and grabbed the lube. With one finger he delicately hooked down the back of Dean’s panties and started on him and soon enough he was fucking him as requested, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other out in front of him, hand around his dick, taken out over the top of the panties and quickly tucked in right before Dean came. Cas was able to tell when it was about to happen by the change in Dean’s breathing and he gripped the bulge in the panties as they grew hot and damp in his palm, making him come just a few thrusts later, his hand still on the hot bulge, kneading and squeezing.

Their cleanup was quick and efficient. There was no place to put the panties since the basket was still in the laundry room, so when Dean took them off he hung them on the arm of the chair.

Their trip to the bathroom to remove the lipstick was a quick one. Some soap and hot water got rid of it and afterwards Dean used some toilet paper to wipe the area around his crotch, making sure he didn’t have any residual come left on him from it being in such close proximity to his skin. Cas didn’t know why he found Dean dabbing himself and cleaning himself off to be mildly arousing. It wasn’t an erotic thing, but the fact that Dean so casually whipped it out again for cleaning was something that made him happy that they were this comfortable around each other, so that might have attributed to the arousal.

‘So what now?’ Cas asked when they left the bathroom. ‘It hasn’t been two hours yet.’

‘Didn’t we buy nail polish as well as lipstick when we went to that drug store?’ Dean asked, remembering seeing it in the drawer.

‘If I recall correctly, then yes,’ said Cas. ‘Why?’

‘It might be fun to get your nails painted by an amateur who doesn’t know what he’s doing,’ Dean shrugged. ‘If you’re brave enough.’

‘Let’s do it,’ Castiel said firmly.

Cas ended up with black nails which extended to the skin around them, because Dean sucked and misjudged how much of the nail polish he had on the brush, causing it to overspread. Castiel requested that Dean let him to the same to him in return, but Dean was hesitant on the hands, but did allow Cas to thoroughly fuck up his toes (on purpose) while they watched another episode of Grey’s.

They didn’t notice the time until midnight had already passed them by, but thankfully it hadn’t passed them by much. Cas had already gotten back into bed and gotten comfortable after the absolutely amazing art he’d done on Dean’s toes, so Dean said he’d go put the stuff in the dryer by himself so Cas wouldn’t have to leave his pillow nest. Dean also took their plates from earlier, intending to wash them before he dealt with the laundry.

When Dean got back to the bedroom, Cas was sitting comfortably, legs curled slightly, to the side of him, an episode of Friends playing. Shorter than the Grey’s episodes, it was the perfect last thing to watch before finally going to sleep because admittedly, he was quite tired. Dean switched off the light, wedged himself in next to him, one arm around him until the end of the episode. When the episode ended, Cas shut the TV off leaving them in darkness and lay down with his legs stretched out in front of him. He turned on his side, facing Dean, who had similarly fallen into a laying position.

‘I’m tired,’ Cas stated.

‘It’s late,’ Dean replied.

‘I know,’ Cas groaned. ‘So goodnight.’

Dean chuckled.

Simple. No lingering on the subject of sleep or dreams or anything of the sort. Cas was getting better at the accepting the sleeping thing.

‘Night, Cas,’ Dean uttered affectionately.

Cas smiled when Dean kissed his forehead and then they both closed their eyes, facing each other. Cas curled his way into Dean’s arms like he had this morning, Dean opening his arms gratefully and then closing them around Cas like a vice. It was nice there. And it was warm. And Dean smelled very pretty.

Another morning, waking up to another human need having cropped up in the night, but Cas was growing used to it and guessed what he should expect. Dean had woken up first, but seemed comfortable in laying with Cas, his eyes still closed, but Cas knew the difference between Dean asleep with them closed and awake with them closed.

‘Any cat dreams?’ Cas asked first thing.

‘No,’ Dean replied, opening his eyes and gazing at Cas’s morning face. ‘Just a weird one about cage wrestling.’

‘Interesting,’ Castiel commented. ‘Any ideas on what that represents?’

‘Not a clue.’

Cas chuckled, rolling onto his back. He stared at the ceiling a moment and sighed.

‘I think perhaps we should get up soon. I need to use the bathroom and I’d like to see you cook something for breakfast, if that’s alright.’

 ‘I’ll see if there’s anything there I can cook,’ Dean told him. ‘Meet you in the shower in five?’

Castiel hesitated. Without wanting to give anything away, he asked, ‘make it ten?’

‘You got it,’ Dean said with a nod. ‘In the meantime I’ll straighten the bed up.’

Cas nodded and hopped out of bed, Dean doing the same thing. Cas grabbed some clothes from the wardrobe and went for the door and Dean started on the covers, grinning at Cas in parting before he slipped out of the room.

True to his word, ten minutes later Dean knocked on the bathroom door and heard Cas unlock it from the inside. Dean stepped in and dropped his clothes on the floor and started to undress, Cas copying him and once stripped they stepped into the shower for their now-ritual morning routine.

Dean and Castiel were the last ones up, Dean wearing the AC/DC shirt he’d slept in as part of his outfit since Cas seemed to like it and Cas in his Pikachu sweater and matching beanie. Dean decided to make omelets for him and Cas since everyone else had already breakfasted and Castiel said he would go remove the laundry from the dryer and take it back to their room and then return to watch Dean cook, which was exactly what he did.

Watching Dean cook was a pleasant pass-time. Castiel made a mental note to ask Sam if there was anywhere he knew of to get one of those “kiss the chef” aprons Dean had mentioned last night, as Dean’s birthday was coming up in the month of the new year and Cas had never gotten him a present on his birthday, despite, to Cas, Dean’s birthday being one of the most important days of the year since that was the day that led to the birth of Dean, which led to Cas’s own happiness so many years later. He wondered if Dean, or Sam for that matter, even celebrated their birthdays.

‘How did you learn to cook?’ Cas asked, leaning against the wall beside where Dean was cooking. ‘I know you were just a child when you started, and clearly your father didn’t teach you.’

‘A lot of stuff comes with instructions of how to cook it on it,’ Dean said with a shrug. ‘Then I figured out what goes good with what. And then when I got to high school, well …’

Dean trailed off. Castiel frowned.

‘Well?’ he prompted.

‘Well there’s this class that teaches you how to cook and shit like that. Long story short in most of the schools I went to I was one of like … three guys in a class full of chicks. And in one school, I was the only dude in there. And when those chicks found out I was only doing it so me and my brother could eat since dad never cooked … let’s just say I got called the “sweet and sensitive bad boy” and they seemed to dig it.’

Castiel raised his eyebrows. Dean Winchester in cooking class. That was something he hadn’t expected one bit.

‘You were a “bad boy” in your school days?’ Cas asked.

‘Pretty much,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I was the guy in the leather jacket with no curfew that had an awesome car and knew how to win money by playing cards to take chicks out for food.’

‘Huh,’ said Cas. ‘Well that’s something I should have expected. I presume the leather-clad gambler looked very out of place in a cooking class?’

‘You presume right,’ Dean confirmed. ‘But don’t base your view of me in high school on just one class. You know, I took wood shop too.’

‘You did?’

‘Yeah. One time I built a stool for a project. I even made the second best bird house in our class.’

Castiel smiled, watching Dean grab plates.

‘I’d like to know more about your past,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know enough to feel satisfied. I think you once told me you’re a high school drop out?’

‘Yeah, I dropped out when I was almost eighteen,’ Dean nodded.

‘Why?’ Castiel asked. ‘You’re intelligent. You could have graduated.’

‘I could have, but I didn’t,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Dad was always on my case about helping out more with hunting. He said I was old enough to make a decent partner for most cases. Besides, I’m not the smart one. That’s Sam. He’s the one who always thought the way school wanted him to and added letters to numbers and crap. I was the one who aced classes I was interested in and complained during the ones I knew for a fact I’d never need. I mean when the fuck am I ever gonna need to know how to find x side of a fucking triangle? I haven’t needed to so far. Don’t think I’m gonna need to between now and whenever I end up dead. So what’s the point?’

‘X side of a triangle?’ Cas asked, frowning, walking over to the table with Dean who was carrying two plates.

‘Or something like that,’ Dean shrugged. ‘There was an x in almost every question. Some a’s and b’s and c’s. Add letters to numbers and figure out what numbers the letters all are.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Cas stated.

‘Right?’ Dean agreed. ‘And don’t even get me started on English. I don’t need to know fucking Shakespeare. This isn’t England in the fifteen hundreds. And history, god who _cares_? They’re all dead anyway. I’ll admit some of it was pretty cool, but most of it was boring as fuck. And the way that shit is taught, it’d put you to sleep. And there was sex ed … that was the worst. One of the only classes that teaches something people actually need to know about, and they don’t tell you half of what’s really going on.’

‘They teach you about sex in school?’

‘Barely. Use protection before you find somewhere to stick it. Put it in the right hole. And nothing about what to do when you’re with someone with the same junk as you. The first time I was with a dude I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do.’

‘You seem to know now,’ Castiel commented, smirking slightly at Dean from across the table.

‘Thank goodness for guys in bars and internet porn.’

Cas laughed. Dean grinned at him.

‘I enjoy hearing you talk about this kind of thing,’ Cas told Dean matter-of-factly. ‘I often forget there’s more to your life and past than just hunting related matters. And I like listening to your opinions on things.’

‘Well I’ve got a lot of those,’ Dean muttered, sounding mildly pissed off at his own memories. ‘I just don’t get to voice them, y’know? They don’t ever come up in any conversations I tend to have. The only opinions I get to express are about which gun works better for rock salt and which one works best for silver bullets, or whether or not some freaky accident is actually _our_ kind of freaky.’

‘That’s unfortunate,’ said Castiel. ‘But from now on you can feel free to expess all of your opinions on anything to me. I’d like to hear them. Listening to you is something I greatly enjoy.’

‘Well then,’ Dean began, a sudden grin and a shine in his eyes beginning to creep in, ‘let me talk to you about those _fucking morons_ who think coke and diet coke taste the same …’

Breakfast turned into a ranting session for Dean, going on and on about things he never got to talk about. Cas listened to every word attentively, and when Dean was talking about people who said coke was better than Pepsi, Jody walked in to drop off her empty coffee mug and told him he was completely wrong and coke was better by far, which led to a lively debate about it where they both asked Cas whose side he was on, but he had never had Pepsi so he couldn’t comment.

Dean talked freely and easily about things as basic as the best breakfast cereal, building up to topics as serious as presidential candidates and why Donald Trump was a “fucking irrelevant dildo.”

‘Why a dildo?’ Cas asked curiously.

‘Because calling him a dick would be an insult to dicks everywhere,’ Dean replied. ‘And hey – have you ever noticed how his mouth looks like a gaping asshole?’

‘No,’ said Cas, frowning, ‘but now that you mention it …’

They’d tired out the topic of Dean’s pent up unvoiced opinions by the time Dean finished washing their dishes and they headed off to see what everyone else was up to. Castiel was very glad that this had come up, as getting to know more about the things Dean thought about was something he’d always wanted to do. The depth in which Dean thought about things and the sheer range of random yet somehow all-connected topics was astounding. Cas was a fool for not asking Dean to talk about his thoughts sooner. Of _course_ Dean didn’t just think about hunting-related topics. He wasn’t blind to the world around them, just silent about it.

The majority of the group were in the living room. Sam and Aroura had gone out early for some quick NYE shopping to grab some things for their celebrations that night. Dean honestly couldn’t remember ever celebrating this event apart from once when he was twenty two and ditched researching a case for John and went off to a bar to spend the night drinking and flirting with the waitresses. Unfortunately, despite his efforts, he didn’t get to kiss any of them at midnight.

The atmosphere was reasonably laid back. The TV was on, Jody was reading, Claire and Donna were playing Bop It and Alex was scrolling through her phone and half-watching TV. Dean and Castiel put their eyes on the screen too for a while, until it became boring. Dean felt as though he’d done nothing but watch TV for the past ten thousand years, though he hadn’t even been alive that long. He looked over towards the games shelf, supposing this was the last or the second last day he’d have an excuse to play any of them, and nudged Cas to get his attention.

‘Remember that time a few years ago you and me were playing Sorry! and I turned into an asshole and we never finished it?’ he asked.

It was something he’d felt guilty about as soon as he’d started thinking rationally about it. Even now, years later, every time he saw the game he remembered how harshly he’d acted and how innocent Cas had looked at the time. He couldn’t remember what the context was, but he had a clear memory of Cas holding up the game’s box as his apology after something or other rather than saying the word sorry.

‘I think so,’ said Cas, frowning at him. ‘Why?’

‘Feel like finishing the game now?’

Castiel nodded and got up to get the game, which he put on the coffee table and began to set up. He stayed on the floor, cross-legged, while Dean played from the chair and Cas soon discovered he was beginning to get uncomfortable in the position he was in which caused him to shift his position every time one began to feel uncomfortable; he guessed discomfort was something he would have to get used to. Usually he was able to hold any position for any length of time and he would feel fine.

Sam and Aroura returned shortly after Dean and Castiel began their game. They said they bought some cake and some champagne and some champagne flutes. Dean gave him a puzzled a look.

‘What the hell is the champagne for?’

‘To celebrate,’ Sam shrugged. ‘It’s an occasion.’

Dean seized the opportunity to make a joke that occurred to him rather suddenly.

‘You’re so siked about tomorrow being Friday that you want to drink champagne at midnight?’ he asked, folding his arms and raised his eyebrows at his brother. ‘Dude, I think you’re taking “TGIF” a little too seriously.’

Castiel laughed. Aroura giggled. No one else looked too amused, but they did look as though they appreciated the joke, besides Sam, who looked fed up with it.

‘You’re hilarious,’ Sam said flatly. ‘Really. My sides hurt from laughing. I can’t breathe. You’re the funniest man on the planet.’

He said it all in a monotone as he sat on the couch and Aroura perched on his knees. Dean gave Sam a pissed off look and turned towards Cas.

‘Any idea what TGIF means?’ he asked.

‘Not a clue,’ Castiel replied.

‘It means “thank god it’s Friday.” But I appreciate your laughter.’

‘I’m happy to supply it,’ Castiel smiled. ‘And I personally believe your joke was _somewhat_ amusing. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant Sam’s sarcasm, nor was it good enough for what he said to be taken seriously.’

‘Thanks for the input,’ said Dean, unable to help the goofy grin that spread across his face which he tried to fight off, looking down. ‘It’s your move.’

Castiel rolled his Dean’s bashfulness, but took note of Dean’s words and made his move.

The group went out to lunch at Jiffy Burger for the second time. Dean remembered his passive aggressive nature of the last visit, which turned directly aggressive with his confrontation. It had only been a week, maybe less, since their last visit but for some reason it felt like longer; the developments in his and Cas’s relationship, in Cas’s diminishing grace, in finding out about Chuck being God, finding out more of The Savior, made the whole stretch more action packed than normal weeks.

There was no detour for Dean and Castiel on this trip back from the diner this time and they got back to the bunker in quick time. The roads were light on traffic, even lighter than usual, though in a busier place there would have been more. In the deader places, the more eventful or exciting the day, the more deserted everywhere seemed to be. Sometimes Dean wished that they’d found a bunker in a less remote, more hectic place. Then they wouldn’t have to go an hour out of their way for decent groceries, twenty minutes for a decent place to eat out and up to four hours just to find decent shops.

But the place far from any big society was probably safer than a place in an urban area. Sure, somewhere with more people would give them better opportunities to hide in crowds, but it would also make more people inclined to wonder about and break into the seemingly abandoned building. Besides, as far as Dean could remember, Lucifer tended to stick to targeting larger places too, cities for example, so there was less of a chance of Lucifer targeting the area they were in, or even finding them. If that was even his plan in the first place.

The thought that Lucifer was out there, maybe even looking for them, maybe already having found them, struck Dean hard again and he hurried out of the garage inside, despite knowing they were all safe here in the bunker. Nothing was getting in that wasn’t supposed to. Most likely.

Probably wasn’t the best idea to think along the “most likely” lines. Although it was the most realistic way to think.

The day seemed to rush by, then drag on a bit as afternoon stretched into evening. They did what they did every day; board games, television, chatter and jokes. They pulled out Heads Up! for a while which was one of their less played but more fun games. The results were disastrous for some, good for others. Sam whacked his shin into the coffee table. It wasn’t fun for him in that moment.

They flicked through many channels on the television come evening time, in search of something New Year’s related, to watch, while Dean and Castiel retrieved pizza from the thankfully and miraculously open Pizza Hut. By the time they got back no channel had been picked and Friends was back on screen, a multitude of games going on only to be paused when food arrived.

As night went on, people dipped in and out of the room as they pleased, doing their own thing, the main group diving into subgroups which switched every twenty to thirty minutes. Donna, Cas and Claire got into a very in-depth discussion about cats, Cas telling them about Dean’s one-off cat dream in the process earning Dean, discussing cars with Alex and Jody, some odd looks. When the topic for Dean and Alex switched to the hottest female celebrities they knew of, Jody slowly phased out into joining Sam and Aroura who were discussing Ross Geller’s characterization while Ross was on screen.

When Alex and Dean’s subject of cars was revived, Claire jumped in this time leaving Cas and Donna to move on from cats onto other animals, including bees, where Cas managed to convince Donna that she shouldn’t be so afraid of bees; they wouldn’t sting her, not unless they were frightened, and it was _wasps_ she should attack with a coldblooded, murderous attitude. Or run away from them, that was another option.

When the time hit ten, they started to be very careful about their checking of the time. They knew how fast an hour, even two, could slip by without being noticed. Around eleven they became even more cautious, retiring the games that were going on before they were done so they could watch the television and the clock. At eleven thirty, they switched from Netflix to the New Year’s events that were being broadcast from Time’s Square, and Sam went to go get champagne and cake to be ready while Dean decided, at Sam’s suggestion, to light a fire to “set the mood” as if fire was such a New Year’s-y thing. While he was at it, Dean decided to go light one in the grate in his and Cas’s room too.

The atmosphere was excited and relaxed at the same time; the crackling of the slow-building fire caused the relaxation, but the antics of those in Time’s Square caused building excitement as they ticked ever closer to midnight. Dean couldn’t remember ever feeling excited on this date at this time. Cas couldn’t even recall acknowledging the beginning of a New Year.

When the ten second countdown began, it felt like something huge was about to happen.

When midnight hit, Dean enveloped Castiel in his arms and realized that for the first time, they were staring the New Year together. _Together_ together.

When they broke apart and Dean looked around, seeing Sam popping the champagne, Claire and Alex’s New Year’s kiss turning into a full-blown makeout and Jody and Donna going right for the cake and the plates that Sam had brought with it, and he realized he was starting the New Year with family.

The bedroom fire was roaring when Dean and Castiel crawled into bed half an hour later after cake and champagne, sleepy, satisfied, wondering what January would bring as they drifted off to a restful sleep, Dean with his arms wrapped firmly around Castiel from behind.

If only Sam’s sleep was as restful as his brother’s initially was.

Sam fell into bed, his adrenaline he’d been running on for the night now diminishing once his head hit his pillows. Aroura lay down next to him wearing one of his shirts as short night gown and gazed upon his satisfied, easy-smiling face. She’d hate to wipe off that grin, but she had to do it.

‘It’s January,’ she stated, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

‘I know,’ Sam agreed, a small laugh creeping in at the end. ‘I swear it was October a week ago. I’m not kidding.’

Easy, content comments.

‘I have to leave tomorrow.’

Sam immediately boosted himself up on his elbows and turned his head towards her. She was sitting on her legs, looking at him, the duvet on her side turned back. He recalled her saying that she’d leave in January when she’d first arrived, and now it was January.

‘Tomorrow tomorrow or … today tomorrow?’ he asked, casual, calm, collected. He had always known she would be leaving. He couldn’t suddenly turn into the whiny, clingy guy who begged her to stay.

‘Today tomorrow,’ she clarified, furthering the clarification by adding, ‘or today in the P.M. rather than the A.M. that it is currently.’

 Sam nodded.

‘I get it,’ he said flatly, more flatly than he had intended.

‘But I’ll come back,’ she added quickly. ‘Or you could come and visit. Maybe if I had a charity case in your area … or you had something to report in mine …’

Sam nodded again. He couldn’t deny that he was disappointed.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Sure.’

‘I’ll phone you also,’ she pressed on. ‘Every day. Twice a day. Three times a day. Every hour. Every ten minutes. Say the number, I’ll do it. I promise.’

This time, Sam chuckled.

‘Once a day is fine.’

‘And we can text,’ she continued. ‘Send pictures. Video chat.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know how this works. Am I right in assuming this is a long distance relationship thing we’ll have going on?’

‘Yeah, I think so,’ Sam nodded. For the third time in a very short time span. ‘We can figure it out. We don’t have to talk about it until … until before you go, right?’

‘Yes!’ Aroura said quickly, enthusiastic for the excuse to drop the topic, ‘yes, exactly! So for now we can just … just sleep? I’m tired.’

‘Sleep would be good,’ Sam agreed.

He lay down. There was a sudden tense awkwardness in the atmosphere. They didn’t speak again the entire night.

Sam wished the thought of Aroura leaving had been what had made the night so restless.

The second Sam’s eyes closed, they were open again and he was facing Aroura, who’s face quickly transformed into the face Sam didn’t want to see. Never wanted to see. It was the most unwelcome face there was: Lucifer was almost nose-to-nose with him on the next pillow, causing Sam to shoot up like a rocket from his position and almost as quickly get to his feet. Lucifer, on the other side of the bed, rose too and have him his stupid, usual grin.

‘Okay, I lied in the cage,’ Lucifer began, getting straight to the point. ‘I can’t stop The Darkness. Not alone. And I didn’t need you to bust out of the cage after all.’

Sam could clearly remember the conversation he’d had before falling asleep. He knew he was asleep. That made his sudden, uncontrollable panic easier to handle.

‘You’re not really here,’ he stated, backing farther away from Lucifer on the other side of the bed. ‘You’re just in my head. You don’t know where I am.’

‘True,’ Lucifer reasoned. He sighed. ‘Sam, you know why I’m here.’

‘I know why you’re here,’ Sam repeated, afraid to say the word “yes” in front of him in case there was some loophole somewhere. ‘And my answer is still no.’

‘Oh come _on_ ,’ Lucifer groaned. ‘Still? You’ve had your fun, Sam! Christmas, the New Year, I know about that. It’s all in your head. Now that you’ve finally lived through those you’re _still_ saying no?’

‘You expected me to say … not no?’ Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

He was beginning to get a cold, clammy feeling in his chest he often got when it came to being faced with Lucifer. It was difficult to force out the images of Lucifer’s abuse when he was in the cage the first time, when he returned to the cage, the fight it took to get them out … he had to shut it out. But the memories, so vivid, began slowly seeping past the hypothetical and not literal wall he was trying to mentally create.

Caressed by The Devil. Touched by those hands of evil …

‘No,’ Lucifer admitted, not helping with Sam’s blocking out of the memories, ‘I didn’t but it was worth a shot.’

The tightness in his chest was uncomfortable. Sam chose to bear it. He chose not to try and force the memories from his mind, but not embrace them either. What would come would come. He was almost certainly convinced his mind was playing trickks on him when he heard Lucifer’s last statement.

‘No?’ Sam questioned, just to be sure.

‘No.’

‘Then what are you here for?’

‘To tell you what my plan is and see if you’ll say yes afterwards.’

Sam shook his head, scoffing, and then after realizing fully what Lucifer had said, he raised his eyebrows and fixed him with the best “seriously?” look he could muster in his current state of conflicting terror, disbelief, relief that at least it wasn’t real, panic that Lucifer had stated that he was out of believe and fear of what was to come. Oh, and some confusion thrown in there too.

‘You want to tell me your plan,’ Sam repeated.

‘You sure do sound like a parrot today,’ Lucifer commented, looking impressed by the number of Sam’s repetitions. ‘Yeah, I want to tell you plan. It’s a great plan. Everyone should hear it because there’s no way you can stop it.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Sam challenged, taking a step forward now, slightly more confident, and regretting it the second he did. But he stood his ground, refusing to show weakness. ‘Try me. I’ll tell you a thousand ways we can stop it.’

‘I’m going to take over heaven,’ Lucifer stated boldly.

Sam was taken aback by the up-front and unexpected statement. Now, “hell” rather than “heaven” would have made more sense, but wasn’t that pretty much a default? Luci breaks out of the cage and Satan rises to sit on the throne sort of thing? Or had anyone in hell even realized Lucifer was free?’

‘Hell too,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘And purgatory, if I can swing it. But I’m starting with heaven.’

‘How are you planning on doing that?’ Sam asked, looking at him in a way that showed clearly he didn’t believe that was going to happen. There was no way Lucifer was getting anywhere near heaven; he was one angel. Heaven was full of them.

Lucifer shrugged.

‘Scope out the door. Break in. Kill a few brothers and sisters until the rest surrender. Basically become the new God.’

Wow. How original. Lucifer wanted to be God. Where had Sam heard _that_ one before? Oh yeah. Cas, that time he went crazy with power and ate those souls. Metatron in general. And there were probably others. No, there were definitely others. Lucifer was just the latest in a long line of rebellious angels who wanted things done their way, he just happened to be one of the more well known ones.

‘Good luck with that,’ Sam replied false-encouragingly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. ‘How is that supposed to make me want to say yes to you?’

Lucifer sighed heavily, like Sam just wasn’t getting what Lucifer was saying, despite Lucifer being the only one to think the way he did about his ow ridiculous antics.

‘Think about it,’ Lucifer said seriously. ‘I’m God. I’ve got control over heaven and hell and purgatory. I control who lives and who dies. Who ages and who doesn’t. Who likes carrots and who likes Cheetos. Which dog sniffs which other dog’s butt. And if you’re my vessel, that means you get to control everything too … in a way. You’ll be with me. Remember when once upon a time you wanted to be in control of your own life?’

‘I remember,’ Sam said carefully.

‘You could be again. Or … I could be. I can give you a big house. Fancy car. Big white wedding to your little bride there – actually I’ve got some questions about that: how does it work?’

‘How does what work?’ Sam spat.

‘The mechanics,’ Lucifer shrugged. ‘The plumbing. Come on Sam, I’m dying here. She’s like this big –’ Lucifer made a tiny hole with one hand ‘– and you’re like this big.’ Here, he made a fist. ‘How does that –’ he tried to ram his fist through the hole ‘– even work?’

Sam felt sick when he knew what Lucifer was talking about.

‘You’re disgusting,’ Sam replied bitterly.

‘Don’t tell me then,’ Lucifer said indifferently. ‘I’ll just Google it later. Moose and mouse porn. That’s a thing, right?’

‘Go to hell.’

‘Just broke out,’ Lucifer said easily. ‘Back to the point – I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I can give Dean everything he’s ever wanted. I can even give that pretty boy brother of mine everything _he’s_ ever wanted. That can’t be much, right? A collection of identical trench coats and ties, a shrine to Dean and a book of better insults than “assbutt”?’

‘I don’t _want_ everything I’ve ever wanted,’ Sam half-shouted at him. ‘Don’t you get it? _No_. Get out of my head.’

Lucifer frowned, his expression dropping into the sulky face of a disappointed child. Sam felt physically ill just looking at him.

‘There’s no need to be mean,’ Lucifer replied saltily. ‘And your sentence about not wanting everything you’ve ever wanted? Paradoxical. A contradiction of itself. But suit yourself.’

Lucifer snapped his fingers. Sam woke up with a jolt, covered in sweat, completely alone in his bed with Lucifer’s face still swimming in his head. When he checked the time, it was barely after 1am. When he looked around the room, he was panicked to find Aroura was nowhere in it.

Sam did the only thing he could think to do. He bolted out of bed, grabbing his robe and pulling it on as he tore through the halls to the largest bedroom and banged on the door before bursting in. It was dark but for the fire, dying out but heating the room nicely, and both of the sleepy looking figures were now sitting up, stretching, rubbing their eyes and focusing them on the wild-haired distraught looking Sam that had just appeared before them.

‘Lucifer’s back,’ Sam stated, before either of them could ask any questions, ‘Aroura’s missing,’ he listed, and then, staring straight at Castiel: ‘And why the hell were you just asleep?’


	23. Alpena Angels

Both Dean and Castiel were momentarily confused at the appearance of Sam in their doorway and Dean’s first thought that someone must be dead, until Sam spoke, which led him to wonder how he found out about Lucifer, then wonder whether Aroura was off somewhere with Chuck technically not being Aroura, and then what the hell they were supposed to say about Cas’s current state.

‘How do you know?’ Dean decided on asking, squinting at him through the darkness and reaching to turn on the closest lamp, allowing some light to penetrate the room.

‘Because he came to me,’ Sam stated, jittery, not completelty sure what Dean was supposed to do about it, or even do with the information.  

‘Here?’ Dean asked, his eyebrows shooting up, as Cas dragged himself upwards by his elbows and then hands until he was in a sitting position.

‘That’s impossible,’ Castiel corrected Dean’s sudden assumption. ‘Both of you are hidden from any and all angels. Lucifer included. He couldn’t find you here.’

‘I had like a … like a vision, I guess,’ said Sam, more calmly now, shutting the door behind him and approaching the bed, which he proceeded to sit down on. ‘But like the one with dad in the car. I was talking to him, he was talking to me … the way he used to appear in dreams when he was first trying to get me to be his vessel.’

‘Did he say where he is?’ Dean prompted.

‘No,’ Sam answered. ‘But he could be anywhere. He could be close. He could be watching us – he knows about Christmas, he knows about New Year’s, he knows about Aroura, he says it’s all in my head but if he could see what’s in my head then he’d be able to see where we are, right? Isn’t that how it works?’

‘Not necessarily,’ Castiel corrected. ‘It’s likely that you were thinking about, possibly even going to dream about recent events and of course, Aroura. Those things were on the surface of your mind, where our location is not something you think about actively so is buried deeper within where Lucifer can’t reach when giving visions or appearing in dreams.’

Sam thought about his words carefully, and they made sense to him. He nodded slowly.

‘So what did he want?’ Dean asked. ‘Besides the obvious.’

‘He said he can’t stop The Darkness, for one, which I’m pretty sure was already obvious,’ Sam started, ‘and he said he was out of the cage. And that he wanted to take over heaven and become the new God and we can’t stop him.’

‘And?’

‘That’s it.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Yeah. That’s it. So what are we supposed to do about it?’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look. The question of whether they were supposed to tell him everything Chuck had told them weighed heavily on the two of them and they knew it without even speaking. They couldn’t have a particularly lengthy non-verbal conversation with Sam staring intently like that. Castiel shifted his eyes from Dean and back to Sam, gesturing that this was Dean’s call.

‘I don’t know,’ Dean answered lamely. ‘Be extra careful when we go out and scan for signs and omens? Try to track the guy? We can’t do much else.’

‘I guess,’ Sam said frantically, getting to his feet again and starting to pace around the room. ‘But what if he _is_ watching us? What if he starts working with Amara against … God? If there is a God. Oh god – what if Lucifer’s been tracking _us_ and broke in and that’s why Aroura wasn’t there when I woke up? Because he kidnapped her?’

‘Woah, woah!’ Dean protested, automatically getting out of bed and standing up so he was more on Sam’s level. Ish. ‘Stop jumping to conclusions here. If that dick was tracking us, we’d know. Aroura probably just got up for some water or something.’

‘And as for the God issue,’ Castiel said slowly, still in his sitting position in bed, ‘I firmly believe that he’s … out there. And aware. But he chooses to remain silent because that’s how it was written; that God can’t interfere with the world and events he created until everything he planned in the beginning has come to pass.’

Sam stopped pacing and stared at him.

‘You think God _planned_ this?’

Castiel looked away from Sam and glanced over at Dean, who was in a serious stance with his arms folded across his bare chest. Dean fixed his eyes on Cas too, raising his eyebrows and giving him a look as his gesture for him to respond.

‘I firmly believe that God has always known the events of this nature that would unfold,’ Castiel replied, very carefully. ‘He has always known about everything Lucifer has done and has yet to do. I _believe_. Not that I know that … that everything is planned … or … anything.’ He swallowed at Sam’s deep-frowning expression. ‘And I also agree with Dean that we should track Lucifer and make ourselves aware of any of his movements that we can follow.’

Sam nodded.

‘Yeah,’ he said dryly. ‘We should do that.’

‘I’ll start right now,’ Dean muttered, going in pursuit of his laptop. He knew he’d have to start searching for this stuff sooner or later as soon as he’d found out about Lucifer’s return, he’d just been waiting for Lucifer to make the first move.

‘No, no,’ Sam said quickly, stopping Dean in his tracks. ‘No. Start in the morning. I woke you up, I’m sorry I just … I overreacted.’

‘You did not overreact, Sam,’ Castiel said firmly. ‘Lucifer appeared to you. There’s no overreaction to that.’

‘Well then I jumped to some stupid conclusions,’ Sam corrected himself. ‘Of course he’s not here. Of course he didn’t break in and abduct Aroura without me noticing. I was just panicked, and confused, and I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ said Dean, sitting down on his side of the bed. ‘When it comes to Lucifer, you should be sorry if you’re keeping any damn secrets because you can bet your ass that if I find out you’re ever hiding something you’re gonna be in trouble.’

‘Well I told you all I know,’ Sam assured him.

‘Be sure to keep us updated,’ Castiel said seriously, with undertones of gentleness.

‘Yeah,’ Sam promised, nodding quickly. ‘I will … if you two promise to be straight with me for a second.’

Dean and Castiel automatically looked at each other weirdly. Dean raised his eyebrows and turned back to Sam.

‘You want us to be … straight,’ he repeated flatly, looking over at Cas again and looking at the situation in which they were in. Shirtless, sharing a bed, sharing a pillow. ‘Yeah, I don’t really think that’s gonna happen any time soon, Sammy.’

Sam didn’t get it at first, nor did he understand why he could see a flicker of amusement on Cas’s face at a time like this. And then he fucking got it.

‘I didn’t mean straight as in _heterosexual_ ,’ Sam said in annoyance. ‘I know that’s never going to happen. I mean straight as in _honest_.’

Sam strode forward and sat on the end of the bed again, on Cas’s side, fixing each of them with a solid and serious look.

‘Okay, that we can try,’ said Dean.

‘You never answered my third question,’ Sam probed, his eyes fixed on Cas. ‘Why were you asleep? No, more importantly, _how_ were you asleep?’

Castiel faltered.

‘I wasn’t,’ he stated.

‘The room was pitch black, the TV is off and it was obvious when you sat up that you’d just woken up,’ Sam rectified. ‘You were asleep. What’s up?’

Castiel looked over at Dean expectantly. Dean briefly ran his top teeth and then his tongue over his bottom lip, looking downwards before looking back up at Cas. They knew there was a way they could lie, say Cas had found a loophole or something, a way to force himself to sleep maybe, but it was clear that the part about Cas’s grace, at least, would be coming out tonight.

‘Because for a time now, I’ve been gaining more and more human needs,’ Castiel told him. ‘Due to the fact that for some unknown reason, though it’s most likely due to all the strain on myself and my powers over the years, my grace is weakening.’

‘Are you …’ Sam looked like he didn’t know what he should say. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m certain,’ Castiel answered.

‘Are you … okay?’

‘I’ve accepted it,’ Castiel confirmed, nodding slightly and looking over at Dean. ‘Dean has been of great help. He helped me get past the obvious worrisome thoughts and fears.’

‘That’s good,’ Sam expressed, giving Dean a glance. ‘So you’re human now?’ he asked, turning back to Cas.

‘Almost,’ said Castiel. ‘I can still lift heavier objects than most humans, or so I presume, and still don’t feel pain from normal things despite some discomfort from being in certain positons too long. But I’m getting there. It seems like it will be a matter of days before I’m just like you and Dean and … everyone else on the planet.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Sam, sympathetic to a degree, although it didn’t seem like Cas needed much sympathy. He seemed to accept it, as he’d said. ‘Let me know if you need anything. If you want to talk or … anything. You need more than one person there for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Castiel said sincerely.

Sam gave him a warm, encouraging smile, which Cas returned.

‘One more thing before I go,’ said Sam, ‘why didn’t you tell me about this?’

Castiel looked uneasy. All the things he’d expressed to Dean about feeling like he would become useless when human briefly flashed through his mind. The vulnerability that came with humanity. He looked over at Dean, who’s look was all knowing. Castiel settled on the easiest thing he could come up with to say.

‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

It wasn’t a lie. Sam could tell it wasn’t a lie. He could also tell it wasn’t the whole truth, but he wasn’t going to invade.

‘Well I’m glad you told me,’ Sam said cordially, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you two alone now. I’m sorry for bothering you … goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ Castiel replied.

‘Night, Sam,’ added Dean.

Just before Sam opened the door, he paused again, looking back at the two of them looking at each other from across the bed, clearly communicating without need of words.

‘You two look good together,’ he commented. ‘Natural. Like you should’ve been together all along.’

Sam saw the two smiles creep into the profile views he had of the two of them. Dean looked back at Sam, while Cas favored looking shyly down at the mattress.

‘Thanks, Sam,’ Dean said genuinely. ‘And you and Aroura … you look pretty good too.’

Sam grinned.

‘Thanks.’

And then he left and closed the door behind him.

When Sam got back to his bedroom, considerably calmer, Aroura was back in bed with her knees curled into her chest and her hair spread out across her pillow. That calmed him even more as he removed his robe and climbed back into bed, doing everything he could not to wake her and lay facing her. She stirred, moving closer to him, not completely asleep.

‘Where were you?’ she mumbled sleepily.

‘Bathroom,’ he lied, deciding it was best that he didn’t say he’d gone to get a drink since that may have been what Aroura was doing and it would be an obvious lie if she had been, but there were multiple bathrooms so that was always a safe excuse. ‘I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.’

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She nuzzled his chest, sighing contentedly, and was asleep within seconds.

Back in Dean and Cas’s room, Dean had turned off the lamp and he and Cas were back in bed, side by side on their backs, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. There was silence for several minutes after Sam’s departure.

‘So Sam knows about Lucifer,’ is what broke it.

‘He also supplied us with new information,’ Castiel added, turning his head to look at Dean after Dean’s original statement. ‘We didn’t know what Lucifer’s plan was.’

‘Yeah, true,’ Dean agreed with a nod. ‘So I guess that’s something. And,’ he continued, turning onto his side, ‘he knows about you, so there’s no need to hide that anymore.’

‘I have to continue to hide it until our guests leave,’ he corrected. ‘I know it’s of no concern to them, but they would have questions.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean acknowledged. ‘You’re right.’

‘But more importantly, Lucifer,’ Cas said quickly. ‘Wanting to be God. It’s something we should have expected. Do you think he knows? God I mean. Chuck. Do you think he knows?’

‘Probably,’ Dean sighed. ‘He planned everything, remember? Up as far as getting rid of The Darkness.’

Castiel frowned at the ceiling, a sudden thought occurring to him that made him turn on his side and face Dean.

‘But what happens then?’

Dean didn’t get it.

‘What happens when?’

‘What happens when everything that’s been planned out occurs and there’s nothing left planned?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Shit goes back to normal?’ Dean suggested. ‘We hunt. We fight. But heaven and hell stop trying to fuck up everything every other day. Back how it was before the apocalypse.’

‘You mean how it was when you and Sam drove around taking cases and hunting monsters simply because that’s what you do?’

‘Exactly,’ said Dean. ‘Or at least I hope so.’

Castiel frowned at him. He did enjoy hunting to an extent, it was fun when he got to actually work on a case rather just researching it, and the saving people aspect was always a positive, but surely Dean didn’t expect to be a hunter forever? What about when he got old and couldn’t hunt anymore? Or if something happened while hunting, like an accident of some kind, that left him unable to continue?

‘So you’ve never considered stopping?’

This time it was Dean’s turn to frown.

‘Stopping hunting?’

‘Yes.’

‘All the time.’

Castiel sat bolt upright without meaning to. It was the unexpected response that had caused his reaction, so that now he was looking down at Dean but only for a moment as Dean sat up too.

‘What?’ Dean asked, giving him a puzzled look.

‘I just …’ Castiel faltered. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t,’ Dean said with a shrug. ‘It’s not something we get to talk about. Stopping just isn’t an option right now since we’re usually the only ones who can fix the world … and we’re usually the ones to break it too for that matter,’ he added thoughtfully.

‘But if the world were to right itself and things were to become easy like before …’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean replied. ‘I love hunting. It’s still a thrill a lot of the time. And there’s no _reason_ to stop, and even if I did, or if I _could_ … there’s always something that pulls me back in. You know that. I stopped before.’

‘But that’s because you thought Sam was permanently dead and I was also out of the picture,’ Castiel reminded him, ‘which turned out was not the case. But you truly think about stopping _now_?’

‘Well not _now_ ,’ Dean stressed. ‘And not … not full time. I just sometimes think that maybe one day, _one day_ , a long time away, if I live that long, that I’ll be able to get out of the life enough to … to only take a case if someone calls me about one. Not go looking for stuff, you know? Just do it when people need me and the rest of the time …’

Dean trailed off. Castiel continued looking at him, eager and expectant. Slowly, Dean lay back down to return to his position of staring at the ceiling.

‘The rest of the time?’ Castiel urged.

‘Nothing,’ Dean said quickly, making Cas’s brow crease in disappointment. ‘Forget it. Now’s not the time.’

‘But–’

‘I said _forget_ it. Come on. It’s late … another time, alright?’

‘Fine,’ Cas replied, suddenly curt. ‘Another time.’

Cas too lay back down on his back, a considerable distance between the two of them, their heads on different pillows for the first time in a while. Dean looked over at him and caught a glimpse of his expression.

‘Cas, I–’

‘Goodnight, Dean.’

Dean continued to watch Cas, wondering where exactly he’d gone wrong. It was a while before he responded, monosyllabically.

‘Night.’

Seconds later, Dean turned on his side facing away from Cas. Cas stayed on his back, wide awake, wondering, like Dean, where he’d gone wrong and why he suddenly felt like Dean was depriving him of something, or keeping something from him. Clearly he wasn’t; it _was_ late and maybe it wasn’t the right time, what with Sam dreaming of Lucifer and all that. But Cas felt like Dean was … being stubborn with his refusal to continue.

After a while, Cas turned over too, facing in the opposite direction to Dean. He wrapped his arms around one of the pillows he slept next to and placed his head on that too, curling himself around it until sleep eventually found him.

Sleeping in that position was definitely a mistake. When he woke up he had an annoying stiffness and pain in his neck. His neck thing suddenly became a secondary issue, though, when he woke up and discovered Dean wasn’t next to him.

Waking up without Dean seemed all-wrong. Why wasn’t here there? Had something else happened? Or maybe he was just annoyed that Cas had been briefly ticked off last night, but that had long since passed with sleep. Last night probably hadn’t been the right time for Dean to say whatever it was that was on his mind. Cas was over it … hopefully Dean was too, right?

Dean wasn’t in the bathroom when Cas checked there, nor did he show up the entire time Cas was in there. It was only when he did it alone that Cas remembered how dull getting ready for a day was. When he got to the kitchen in search of breakfast, it was completely empty. He got some cereal and some coffee and took it with him as he sought out the long tabled room, to see if that one was empty too.

Thankfully, it wasn’t. Everyone was in there with breakfast, Dean included, and Cas sat in the empty space next to him at once. Dean gave him a stiff ‘morning’ which Castiel returned sincerely without mirroring back any trace of Dean’s stiffness.

‘Episode ran long?’ Sam asked from across the table. Either he guessed, or Dean had told him that Cas wasn’t telling about the whole human thing.

‘Actually the episode before it ended on a cliff hanger so I had to watch the next one,’ Cas lied smoothly.

Usual, simple chatter accompanied breakfast, and they found out that the majority of their guests would be leaving after lunch, while Aroura would stay until dinner before she went. It was sad to think about them leaving, but everyone knew they wouldn’t be staying forever. The holidays were over, and it was time to get back to life.

After breakfast Dean offered to do the dishes. Cas jumped at the chance to help out and Dean’s agreement was unenthusiastic. So Dean was upset about Cas’s momentary annoyance last night. Great.

‘I’m sorry, Dean,’ were Cas’s first words once they were alone.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Dean shrugged, dumping the dishes in the sink a little too harshly making Cas worry about breaking them.

‘ _Dean_ ,’ Cas stressed, placing a hand on Dean’s lower back to no response. ‘I’m _sorry_.’

‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,’ Dean said indifferently, washing the dishes vigorously despite there being no reason to. ‘I’m fucking sorry. I’m the one who stopped talking when I was about to … to, uh … say stuff.’

‘ _You’re_ sorry?’ Castiel asked in disbelief. ‘Dean, I’m the one who froze you out simply because you didn’t feel like talking. That was childish of me, and I apologize for it.’

‘Dude, no,’ Dean brushed off. ‘You’ve got every right to be pissed at me. I’m pissed at me for not … for shutting up.’

‘You’re not angry with me?’ Castiel asked, some relief setting in.

‘No?’ said Dean, frowning at him, as if it was obvious. ‘I’m angry at _me_. And I thought you would be too.’

‘But _why_?’

‘For cutting off what could have turned into …’ Dean wavered, not wanting to sound too upfront. ‘A moment,’ he said quickly, looking away, right down at the dishes he was rinsing off.

‘That was a moment?’

Dean didn’t answer right away.

‘Could’ve been,’ he muttered. ‘If I hadn’t … if I’d just … _fuck,_ Cas!’

Dean dropped a spoon rather violently. Cas automatically took a step back. Dean gripped the sink, breathing deep, and slowly turned to look at Cas who was watching him with eyes that seemed almost sad.

‘I wanted to tell you things,’ Dean said quietly. ‘Things on my mind. In the back of my mind, you know? But I couldn’t. Because I’m a fucking idiot. And I’m an idiot for wanting to tell you them in the first place because they’d probably scare you off and now is just _not the time_.’

Dean, staring down at the sink, looking like he was furious with himself, made a lump appear in Cas’s throat which he swallowed. He stepped forward and gently placed one hand over Dean’s, which made Dean look at him with something that looked like deadness in his eyes.

‘Dean, nothing could scare me off,’ he said gently, placing his other hand over Dean’s other one, taking both hands and pulling them away from the sink.

‘It’s too soon,’ was Dean’s quiet response. ‘Cas, you’re an angel.’

‘Not anymore,’ Castiel reminded him.

‘But still,’ Dean insisted. ‘You _were_ an angel. You’ve been an angel since … since forever. You’ve been _alive_ since forever. And you’ve been with us seven years, and you’ve been with _me_ not even a month, and no matter what happens, grace or no grace, you’ll always _be_ an angel. You could never want what I want, because we’re _different_.’

Castiel frowned deeply. He didn’t understand at all, he didn’t know what Dean had been going to say last night, or wanted to say, or “wanted” or anything along those lines, but he knew one thing.

‘Dean, I will always want _whatever_ you want.’

Dean shook his head.

‘You don’t know that.’

‘I do,’ Castiel asserted. ‘You rarely want for anything. You’re too selfless for that. And to even think of you wanting for something must mean that whatever it is would make you happy. And that’s what I want for. Your happiness.’

Dean smiled weakly.

‘So you’re not mad?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Castiel promised. ‘I was briefly last night because I didn’t know why you had suddenly stopped speaking, but come morning that was gone and I began to feel miserable at the lack of your presence.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Dean said, looking down. ‘I just assumed you’d be as mad at me as I was.’

‘Perhaps I would have been mad if at the time I’d been aware of the “moment” lurking behind the words we were saying, but I’m not mad,’ Castiel assured him. ‘And you shouldn’t be either. There’s no use in you being mad at yourself for not wanting to say something you didn’t feel comfortable saying.’

‘But I _should_ feel comfortable saying it,’ Dean whined, looking back up. ‘But I’m not. I’m …’ He looked back down again. ‘Embarrassed,’ he admitted.

‘You shouldn’t be,’ Cas told him firmly. ‘You can say anything to me. I won’t judge you for it.’

‘I know,’ Dean mumbled, ‘but it’s hard to get used to having someone you can say anything to. Maybe I could try again another time?’

‘Of course,’ Cas promised. ‘Now perhaps you should get back to the dishes. You left the tap running and it’s making me need to urinate.’

Dean laughed softly.                                          

‘Cas, you’re human now. You’ve gotta start saying pee.’

Castiel rolled his at Dean and said nothing, but began drying the dishes that Dean washed. He was glad that they were back to normal, but upset that Dean had been angry at himself … but he knew Dean was still learning. He wasn’t someone who shared his feelings or his deeper, more private thoughts and you didn’t just change into someone who did overnight. Even Cas himself had to stop himself from saying ‘I love you,’ ‘I need you,’ ‘I want to be with you for the rest of my human life,’ ‘I want to do what Metatron told me to do when he stole my grace, but I want to do it with _you_ …’ and so on.

Cas didn’t know what Dean thought would scare him off, but those thoughts would definitely scare Dean. _Those_ were the thoughts to be embarrassed about.

They made the most of the last few hours they had with their guests. Dean finally got around to using that damn camera on his phone which he’d said he’d use more and he took a few pictures. That inspired a whole session of taking “goodbye pictures” on everyone’s phones and most of the pictures were probably weird looking and embarrassing but it didn’t really matter.

And then they were gone, just like that, leaving the place seeming oddly empty. Before they left there were hugs all around, promises of the occasional call or text that wasn’t just for hunting related purposes, and further thanks for Christmas presents from days ago. It was sad to see them go.

With the bunker almost empty again, it seemed like things were back to normal. Sam and Aroura wanted to spend some time alone before Aroura was to leave, leaving Dean and Cas free to do their own thing, so getting right back to work, Dean went straight to their bedroom and to his computer to search for signs of Lucifer and signs of where the gates of heaven might be of it were possible to detect such a thing. Cas decided, while Dean did that, to try setting up his own still-unopened laptop and maybe even the printer in an attempt to get the pictures from the phone to laptop the printer. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be.

While pictures printed, Dean discovered no omens. There were a few signs here and there for regular demon activity, but then again, when weren’t demons out somewhere fucking shit up? He’d make some calls to hunters he knew in the area, maybe even take one or two cases to work for himself and Sam and maybe Cas. He had a feeling Cas wouldn’t like just being left alone in the bunker anymore, especially now that he was human. He’d feel like it was _because_ he was human, even though it wasn’t.

‘How are you doing with those pictures?’ Dean asked, pulling up a page with information on biblical omens he may not have checked and starting his search on those.

‘The ones from your phone are almost printed out,’ Castiel replied. ‘I just wish there was a way we could print videos. The one Claire sent of us is very entertaining.’

‘Maybe we can pick up some blank discs at a store or something,’ Dean suggested, pulling up no results on anything biblical. ‘Make a few movies. Win some Oscars.’

‘I don’t think we’ll be winning anything,’ Cas laughed. ‘Your dance moves are appalling. Anything on Lucifer?’

‘Nothing,’ Dean said bluntly, sighing as he pushed his laptop away to take a break. ‘Some activity that screams demons though. I doubt it’s Lucifer related, but you never know. Feel like doing some hunting?’

‘You mean research hunting or hunting hunting?’ Castiel frowned.

‘Hunting hunting,’ Dean clarified. ‘Hop in the car with us for a few hours. Hear me and Sam bitch about his smoothies taking up too much space so there’s not enough space for beer. Get to listen to our terrible singing. And then stab some evil sons of bitches when we get wherever we’re going.’

‘Where _are_ we going?’

‘Don’t know yet,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I’ll pull up news about the areas the signs are in. See if any of them have a case or if there’s just something lurking but not killing. Sound good?’

‘Do it,’ said Cas, now collecting up the printed pictures and plugging the cable into his own phone to get the pictures from that onto the laptop.

Dean just as Cas had requested and discovered the closest place there was a case (three six murders in one bar on six consecutive days, demonic activity) was a very small town in Arkansas called Alpena. Despite it being the closest, it was still seven and a half hours away and Dean informed Cas of this as Cas printed yet more pictures.

‘That sounds like a case to me,’ Cas nodded. ‘You should tell Sam. But we can’t do anything until after Aroura leaves, so leave it until then unless we can get him alone before that.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Dean realized. ‘You finish up with the pictures. I’m gonna make some calls to see if I can get some hunters on the other possible cases.’

Castiel nodded.

‘While you do that, I’m going to tape these pictures onto the walls,’ Castiel decided as Dean picked up his phone and went to search for his book of contacts.

‘Have fun,’ Dean said with a small laugh, seeing Cas had already rooted out the tape they’d bought.

Cas got to listen in on the various ways Dean talked to different hunters. It was an odd thing to listen to. Some, he spoke to very professionally. Others, he was more casual with and some he was downright gruff with. It seemed a few couldn’t take on the cases so Dean had to call others instead, but it didn’t take long for Dean to get someone lined up for everything that needed dealing with.

‘I wonder if anyone would have taken those cases if you hadn’t discovered them,’ Castiel commented as he taped up a picture above their bed.

‘Eventually, maybe,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Probably. It’s just easier if you catch these things earlier.’

‘You mean, there’s less dead people.’

‘To put it frankly, yeah. And less of a mess to clean up.’

Dean grabbed hold of a picture and stuck it next to the one Cas was sticking up. As an afterthought, he grabbed his phone too and got the camera up and then snapped a picture just as he decided to spontaneously kiss Cas’s cheek, catching Cas off guard and capturing his surprised expression on camera.

‘So how does the printer work?’ Dean asked, once Cas’s face had fallen from surprise to a dorky smile.

‘Let me do it,’ Cas replied. ‘As far as I’ve witnessed during my time knowing you you’re not all that great with technology. You just stick the rest of the pictures up.’

‘I am _not_ not great with technology,’ Dean muttered under his breath, handing Cas the phone and grabbing another picture, this one of both Claire and Alex making some kind of weird antlers behind Sam’s head while Dean took the picture leaned down over them all as they sat on the couch and he sat on the arm. ‘I just … choose not to be great with it. But I’m good. I figured out how the TV works. And I knew what a printer was when I saw one.’

‘Okay, you _choose_ not to be great,’ said Castiel, rolling his eyes behind back. ‘And the muttering under your breath thing you tend to do is pointless. I can still hear you.’

‘You can still hear me,’ Dean muttered again, very deliberately. ‘Good for you. If you can still hear me, you can suck my dick.’

Castiel paused mid-movement.

‘The sudden silence astounds me,’ he stated.

Dean slowly turned to look at that smiling-smug face, eyes narrowed. Cas looked back at him, falsely putting on a look of innocence.

‘I don’t like you,’ he said grouchily. ‘The old you would have taken that seriously and dropped everything and done it.’

‘The old me would have said “that’s inappropriate”  and refused to look at you for any time between several minutes to several hours depending on the situation, owing to the fact that before I learned to better appreciate your jokes and make some of my own, we weren’t in a relationship.’

Dean opened his mouth to respond, re-evaluated, and closed it again. He turned back to the wall he was sticking pictures on, and he could practically see Cas’s smug little grin, which he _did_ see when he turned back to grab the second last picture, the last one before the one Cas was printing out.

The very last picture, Dean taped on the ceiling. It was as close to in the center of right above the pillows that he could get it and it wasn’t perfect, but it was something he liked looking at and as long as he could see it he was happy. So now whether he slept on his back or his side, he’d have a view of Cas as soon as he opened his eyes … unless he slept facing away from Cas of course, but if he slept facing away from Cas he’d probably have Cas against his back to make up for the lack of seeing him.

‘The picture’s not straight,’ Castiel informed Dean as he peered up at it from next to the bed.

‘Neither are we,’ Dean replied.

Cas had to clap his hand over his mouth to stop himself laughing too hard. This was a new thing, the having to use his hand to stop from laughing, that filled Dean with an over the top joy. All he’d ever wanted for Cas was his happiness and to hear him laugh; now he’d gotten his wish.

‘Come on,’ said Dean, once Cas had calmed down, ‘let’s go see if we can get Sam alone and talk to him about taking the case.’

‘And if we can’t?’ Cas asked as their hands joined by their sides on their way to the door.

‘We try to get over the fact that Aroura is more than just Aroura and act like we’re disappointed to see her going instead of just confused.’

‘I still don’t understand how she can be multiple people but at the same time just be one person, or at least one person at a time,’ Cas frowned, his eyes doing that squinty thing and a crease appearing in his brow.

‘I know,’ Dean agreed. ‘It’s like she doesn’t even remember stuff from when she’s not … not _her_. The only time she’s ever seemed abnormal is the day she told us about Lucifer being back. The rest of the time, you’d have no idea.’

‘So she’s either just an extraordinary actress or it’s something extremely complex and supernatural.’

‘I want to say it’s the actress thing,’ said Dean. ‘She has to have memories of being everyone else that she is. She can’t _not_ have.’

‘Perhaps Aroura is just the default setting,’ Castiel visualized. ‘Like the default on our television is playing the TV Networks, but we have to press some buttons to get it onto Netflix. Aroura presses some buttons, and she’s someone else. But she still remembers the other people that she happens to be, the way the television doesn’t require the setting up of the Netflix again as it already remembers it.’

‘That’s actually a pretty good comparison,’ Dean nodded, their feet carrying them automatically around the bunker, seeking out the rooms Sam and Aroura may have an excuse to be in.

‘I’m naturally gifted at seeing parallels in things,’ Cas shrugged. ‘Whether they’re obvious like the parallels between Derek and Meredith and Richard and Ellis, or far-fetched like televisions and saviors.’

Dean laughed, dropping Cas’s hand to throw his arm over his shoulders instead.

‘Good, I like that,’ he joked. ‘I like a man with talent. Or a “wavelength of celestial intent” with talent. Either one.’

‘You do realize I become less celestial by the day,’ Cas pointed out. ‘I’m not sure exactly how much of that celestial wavelength is left.’

‘I know,’ said Dean. ‘And you’re okay with that? With talking about it?’

‘It’s something I’ve come to terms with,’ Cas shrugged. ‘You don’t have to ask every time my growing humanity is mentioned. It’s _okay_ , Dean.’

‘Just making sure,’ Dean clarified. ‘Besides, for some reason I feel the need to add something else after “man” since I still remember that you said you’re not technically one of those.’

‘Calling me a man is fine,’ said Cas. ‘I may technically still be a genderless being, but I quite like the whole aspect of masculinity. At the same time, I think having to abide by every socially constructed “rule” of being a man is ridiculous am proud of my still pitifully painted nails, but there’s no need for you to abstain from using male terms in relation to me.’

‘Noted,’ Dean nodded. ‘Thanks for clearing that up.’

‘Any time.’

Several minutes later, now back in the first room they’d checked for Sam is, Dean had to stop and fold his arms.

‘Where the hell are they?’ he asked out loud, looking around the room as if Sam and Aroura were about to magically pop up from behind the furniture.

‘Sam’s bedroom?’ Cas suggested, rushing to add, ‘they may have a lot to talk about. Maintaining their relationship over distance.’

Dean was grateful for the clarification. Brother-sex-in-progress wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed thinking about; he’d stick to playfully jesting Sam about it the morning after.

‘Maybe,’ Dean agreed. With an indifferent sigh, he asked, ‘so back to our room? I guess I could see if there’s any omens I missed. We could put Grey’s on in the background. Start of season five, exciting, remember? And it’s back next month.’

‘You mean this month,’ Cas corrected.

‘No, February,’ Dean informed him. ‘I told you it was back this month last month to try and get you to watch it faster so we could talk about McDreamy and about Mark Sloan and about Alex and Izzie and about Callie and Arizona.’

‘You mean Erica?’

‘No, I mean Arizona.’

‘Who’s Arizona?’

‘Spoilers, dude.’

‘Right,’ Castiel frowned. ‘Well … while I don’t appreciate being lied to, yes, I think I should get back to catching up on the show. I’d also like to try and customize my computer somewhat and set a picture as my desktop background. And then I’ll join you in searching for anything you may have missed earlier in your research.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Dean decided, already heading for the door.

Despite the extra thorough nationwide search, neither Dean nor Cas managed to find a thing online. Cas suggested expanding their range to a worldwide one, which would probably take a while, more than a while actually, but they had time. They didn’t need to search every country it was possible to search for biblical Lucifer-signaling omens all in one sitting, but they could start their search now, as they watched Christina Yang be impaled by an icicle on the big screen whenever they tore their eyes from the small screens as they wanted for things to load.

Having something to do while watching television, besides play board games, was a blessing. It had felt, in the first few minutes, like it would be difficult to transition back to their normal life, but it was an easy snap. Around the time Owen yanked the icicle out of Christina, Dean decided to gran The First Book and have a look around in that, to see if it mentioned anything else they should be searching for. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to.

Around the time Bailey was telling Karev to book an O.R., Sam knocked on the door to ask if Dean and Cas were up for helping take down the Christmas decorations. Rather reluctantly, they paused the show and paused their search and followed him to the room with the Christmas tree in it, where Aroura was already on the floor putting the tree ornaments into a box.

Taking decorations down wasn’t nearly as fun as putting them up had been, but that was probably due to the lack of music and the presence of thoughts Lucifer and demons and Darkness. Taking things off the tree took almost half the time that putting them on had taken, but they still hadn’t finished taking them down before they decided to have dinner. Aroura wanted to leave soon, since she’d be driving through much of the night and then through all of the next day to get home, or so she said at least.

They didn’t want to go to Jiffy Burger again, so the foursome drove forty five minutes to a Sonic, one of the halfway decent places less than an hour way. They could have easily taken one car, but instead chose to take two. Dean and Castiel in the Impala didn’t discuss Aroura again like they had earlier, even after spending some time with her. It seemed like spending time with her made her less confusing, less all those other people, more normal seeming. What they did talk about was their searching and about Christina and Owen and about Cas working cases, and over dinner they talked about casual things with Sam and Aroura, who seemed to be talking about an awful lot of inside jokes every time the conversation was lagging.

The short time spent there almost wasn’t worth the long drive. Aroura left almost as soon as they returned to the bunker and her goodbye to Dean and Cas was friendly. Her goodbye to Sam was less so.

‘And you’ll call as soon as you get home?’ Sam asked her.

‘I promise,’ Aroura confirmed. ‘And you’ll visit if you ever have to report in Connecticut?’

‘Of course.’

Dean and Cas sort of shifted awkwardly into the background as they kissed at a painful looking stretch and quietly exchanged some words just between the two of them, ending in laughter, and then Aroura got in her car. Out of obligation Dean and Cas lingered by the door until she’d driven away and then went inside, Sam just behind them.

‘So, that’s that then, right?’ were Sam’s first words once inside.

‘What’s what?’ Dean asked.

‘The break. It’s over. We can get to talking about this whole Lucifer thing and do some research.’

‘We’re already on it,’ Dean stated proudly. ‘Listen to this …’

And then Dean, and Cas chipping in, was off detailing everything he’d found across the country, or rather, everything he _hadn’t_ found as the trio headed back to the tree to continue stripping it. He made sure to tell him everything he’d searched for, the few cases he’d found and the one seven and a half hours away, along with the progress of their worldwide search. Sam agreed that they’d best get right to it and take the case and he’d chip in and help with the worldwide search as soon as they were done with the clearing up and storing of the various decorations around the bunker, and they’d leave for the case tonight and find somewhere to stay in town and start in on the case first thing in the morning after a few hours of sleep.

So, it seemed like things were back to normal then, excluding the un-decorating of the bunker. Dean was glad things had returned to how they usually were, but he had to admit he was slightly disappointed at the same time. Still, nothing beat normality, or what was normality for them.

The room looked oddly empty without the tree and the living room looked abandoned without the decorations that had been in there too. Dean wondered if they’d ever use the room again, or if they’d get around to refurnishing it as Sam had suggested a while ago, before the guests and the holidays. He doubted it.

Once that was dealt with, it was time to load up the car.

Their usual weapons and other hunting necessities were placed in the trunk, along with their duffels with stuff for overnight and the next day or two. They had to be prepared since they usually didn’t know how long a case could go on.

They brought some snacks and drinks for the drive. They left at eight, so if they predicted right and traffic was fair, they should be arriving in town around three thirty. As was usual, Sam got shotgun, so Cas sat in the back with a book (Catching Fire) and a small torch which was better light than the lights in the car that barely penetrated the darkness of night around them outside. The radio was on at a low volume. Conversation was scarce.

Sam dozed off against the window around eleven. He awoke two hours later and they pulled over at Sam’s suggestion so Dean could climb in the back with Cas and get some rest. Sam took over driving and Dean slid in next to Cas easily, expecting Cas to still be awake due to the fact that his torch was still on, but evidentially Cas had fallen asleep with his book on his lap. Dean took the book and marked the page where the book was closed over Cas’s thumb, took the torch and turned it off, placed them on the floor and leaned back, getting comfortable.

When Sam woke them both, Dean discovered that over the course of however long he’d been asleep Cas had shifted and was now leaning against Dean rather than the window. They’d stopped in the parking lot of the Colonial Inn, a smallish, cheap place, where they got a single and a double room. That was the one unusual thing about staying in places from now on; two rooms instead of one twin room. They could have gotten a room with two double beds of course, but Sam had decided to give Dean and Cas their privacy. He didn’t want it to be a third-wheeling type or thing. Or something weird.

All three of them climbed into bed pretty much straight away once they got to their rooms and Sam was asleep almost right away, whereas Dean took a few seconds after they’d gotten into bed to tell Cas he’d left his book on the floor of the back seat of the car. Cas nodded, still drowsy after being awoken in the car, and said nothing as he burrowed into Dean’s arms and shut his eyes again.

When they awoke some hours later they weren’t exactly refreshed, but at least they weren’t tired. Dean brought his computer to breakfast to do some more research on the deaths in town and they discussed where to go first. They decided to split up, Sam going to one house and Dean and Cas to another, so after breakfast they went back to the motel to get in their suits and grab their badges.

Cas had brought his suit and trench coat, which he put on for this and Dean was forced to concentrate and think of death and demons to avoid getting distracted by seeing Cas back in his old-usual-outfit.

‘What?’ Castiel asked, frowning, looking at the way Dean was looking at him.

‘Nothing,’ Dean said, taking a deep breath. ‘Nothing at all.’

The houses were just a street apart so naturally the three of them drove there together (not that they had another car to use if the houses hadn’t been close) and parked on the corner and they went on foot to their separate cases. 

Castiel, having learned from past experiences and from his few minor cases with Dean during the week Sam was reading The First Book, let Dean do most of the talking, but of course chipped in with questions of his own when they occurred to him, influenced by the answers the grieving wife was giving to the usual demon-related questions.

They got the wife to let them take a look around on the cover-up of wanting to check for any clues or giveaways that her husband may have been getting involved with something shady.

‘Notes or scraps or recites in drawers you might not have found or that could’ve fallen behind furniture,’ Dean told her formally. ‘Routine stuff.’

‘We promise not to harm any of your belongings,’ Castiel assured her.

The downstairs was clean of sulfur and the upstairs clean of it too, but in the husband’s bedside table drawer they found an oddly battered black locked metal box, which seemed suspicious. It was thin and light and Dean picked the lock on it and opened it to discover bits of paper with things in Latin written on them, diagrams and a small plastic bag of bones. They swiped the stuff and put it in their pockets and returned the box to the drawer.

‘Demon summoning?’ Castiel assumed.

‘Looks like it,’ Dean agreed.

Once downstairs, Dean asked the dead man’s wife about any new hobbies, or groups the man may have joined and wasn’t shocked to hear that he and a group of other men in the area had started visiting the same bar every Saturday night, incidentally the same bar all the dead had been killed in the bathroom of. The place had closed down after the last death, but she gave him the name of the owner.

‘Do you know any of the other men in the group?’ Castiel asked.

She did. And it was definitely no shock that every man she listed was one of the other victims.

They left after thanking her. Sam was already in the car when they got back, pouring over bits of paper very like the ones they’d just found. It was clear they wouldn’t need to visit any of the other victims’ remaining family members.

‘I say we check out the bar,’ Sam said, after making that decision. ‘Just to look around and see if there’s anything there.’

‘Yeah, good idea,’ Dean approved.

They used the owner’s name to find his address and his number, so they called first and he said that he’d meet them later for lunch. In the free time they had before then, they headed to Dean and Cas’s room in the motel since it was the biggest and did some research on the unfamiliar symbols and writing they’d found. Sam dealt with that, while Dean dealt with looking up more about the victims and about the owner or the bar and about the bar itself, trying to see if there was anything odd about any of them, and then he searched to see if anything of this sort had happened in this town in the past. Cas stuck to the worldwide search of biblical omens, pulling up no results after no results after no results.

Lunch with the bar owner told them that he hadn’t noticed anything odd, but he did in fact know the victims and he’d seen them meeting up once a week in a circle around a table with candles and on the last week before they’d all been slaughtered, a woman had shown up and was with them. He couldn’t describe her as anything more than ‘small with dark hair.’ On the following from Christmas leading up to the New Year days she’d come back with each man in turn and had vanished some time before the bodies were found in the bathrooms, necks broken, not a drop of blood on the tiles.

After their lunch, he allowed them into the property to look around. The bathroom they’d died in seemed to look like any ordinary bathroom and whatever police tape had been down had been ripped up. Luckily that trip knew what they were looking for and they found sulfur by the sinks and on the window sill. Dean asked whether he could talk to any people who’d been working the nights of the murders. The owner was happy to oblige.

Dean decided to talk to the two different bartenders alone, knowing he’d probably have to act a little flirtatious to get as much information as possible from both the woman and the man, so he made sure Cas went back to the motel with Sam to keep digging up dirt on the symbols and writing.

Neither bartender could tell him much. The woman told him that each man had gone into the bathroom with the mysterious woman, but the woman had never come out. The man could tell him that the woman’s dark brown eyes matched her dark brown hair and sometimes they were so dark that they appeared black all over. He could also tell Dean that she wasn’t particularly large, was “super hot” and that on at least one of the nights she’d come in with another woman, but left that woman to go off and meet her man, the other woman leaving shorty after without buying a single drink. He said he wished he remembered more about the other woman, but he couldn’t recall anything other than her existence and a lot of silvery white.

When Dean got back to the motel, Sam and Cas had struck gold and discovered the symbols on some newish website that talked about demons. The incantations were apparently the summoning rituals and the symbols all ones to attempt to control the demon or demons summoned.

‘But the thing is, they’re all fake,’ Sam informed him. ‘The site’s not legit. And there’s a whole tab on the people who run the site – all they talk about is how demons are just one closer to “Lucifer, Lord of Light” and how they want to meet him and other crap.’

‘So, Satanists?’ Dean presumed.

‘Actually Satanists don’t believe in Lucifer or demons,’ Castiel cut in. ‘They don’t believe in any form of higher power or anything of the supernatural. I’m not sure why they call themselves Satanists when they don’t even worship Lucifer, but it does seem this site is run by those who _do_ worship him.’

‘So … what does this mean?’ Dean asked confusedly. ‘Those dudes just got lucky and a demon or two showed up for kicks?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Castiel, nodding.

‘So what did you find out?’ Sam asked.

Dean elaborated on the dark haired, dark eyed apparent beauty who’s eyes at times looked black. He mentioned the other “silvery-white” woman, clarifying he didn’t know how relevant she was.

‘So one of them is a demon?’ Sam presumed. ‘Or both of them?’

‘Maybe,’ said Dean. ‘I’m gonna do a quick search on the town again and see if the demonic signs are still showing. Maybe they’re still hanging around.’

It didn’t take long to complete the search, and the results showed that all demonic omens that had been showing up had vanished completely. It was more than a little unnerving. Dean did another search, sweeping the country, and found that all demonic activity in other places there’d been activity was still there, apart from in one of the places he’d set a hunter on where there were articles about a police officer from out of state who’d been forced to shoot the murderer of an entire family on sight, basically meaning the demon was out and the host body was dead or something along those lines. _That_ seemed like a normal case. This one didn’t.

There was a surge of demonic activity in only one new area, seven hours away, in Nebraska, and there was already one person dead. It was another small town, close to the Nebraska/Kansas border and it was called Chester. They decided to leave right away, so they packed up their stuff, changed out of their suits (although Cas, who was comfortable, stayed in his trench coat and suit) and hopped back in the car. Cas resumed reading his book from the night before, the radio was back on with a tape in, filling the car with Blue Oyster Cult at a medium volume, and they were on the road again. They decided to skip stopping for food and finished the rest of the snacks they’d brought from the bunker and instead didn’t have a proper meal until a little after ten that night in a small café with good cheeseburgers and even better pie, before they moved on to look for a motel. There were no motels anywhere in Chester, but the nearest one was fifteen minutes away in a town just past it, so they decided to stay there.

They delegated tasks before separating for their rooms. Sam would find out more about the murder of the first victim and find out whether he was connected to any of the victims in the last town, Dean and Cas would take the police radio and listen in on that to stay updated and be alerted to any new murders.

Once in their room, Cas shrugged out of his trench coat and suit jacket and Dean set up the police radio to pick up stuff in the area. Once the thing was set up, he looked up to see Cas laying out his coats neatly and he swallowed, feeling a stirring in his lower body.

‘Will you keep an ear on the radio?’ Dean asked, watching as Cas straightened up from his laying out. ‘I need to go out and get something.’

‘Of course,’ Castiel replied, as Dean walked over to him. ‘What are you going out to get?’

‘Something I’m remembering to bring everywhere from now on,’ Dean said in a low voice, placing his hands on Cas’s waist. He kissed him roughly, lingering, and took a step back. ‘Just wait here. And don’t get undressed – don’t even take your tie off – I’ll try not to be long.’

‘Okay,’ Castiel frowned, watching Dean turn away quickly and head for the door. Dean only looked back once as gave Cas a cross between a grin and a smirk as he exited, keys in hand.

Dean _was_ a long time. He was gone for almost an hour, returning close to eleven thirty. While was gone, Cas sat on their bead, book in hand, reading and stopping every time the radio made a noise. It was all just boring stuff, speeding, drunk driving, a street fight. When Dean got back, Cas looked up and closed his book.

‘What took you so long?’ were the first words out of his mouth.

‘I couldn’t find anywhere open,’ Dean explained. ‘The first place I found that was open was a Walmart twenty five minutes away. Are you tired?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘I could sleep if I wanted. But not particularly, I fell asleep for a while in the car.’

‘Good,’ Dean declared, pulling his purchase out of his pocket and pulling his jacket off. ‘Put on your coats.’

Castiel frowned at him and leaned forward to see what Dean had just tossed on the end of the bed and rolled his eyes when he saw the small bottle of lube.

‘You forgot to bring it with you,’ he stated.

‘My mind was on demons when I was packing my bag, not sexy angels,’ Dean told him. ‘Now are you going to fuck me or not?’

‘You want me to fuck you fully dressed?’ Castiel asked with raised eyebrows.

‘Not _fully_ dressed,’ said Dean, starting to pull off his own clothing. ‘You can take off everything from the waist down. But from the waist up, fuck yes I want you fully dressed. I’ve fantasized about you fucking me while wearing those clothes for _years_.’

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean’s fast-paced stripping, but did as Dean requested, donning the two layers of clothing he’d shed, removing everything from the waist down and grabbing the lube Dean had bought. He bent Dean over the end of the bed and did his work on him, Dean’s moans and his utterings of swears and Cas’s name muffled by the bed his face was pressed into, his arms stretched out in front of him, his elbows digging into the mattress.

Cas liked the light breeze his trench coat made against his bare thighs as it flapped with every thrust and he liked how it felt against his bare skin when he had climaxed and dropped to his knees, still now, as Dean turned over onto his back letting Cas’s mouth do all the work in getting him off too.

When it was over, Cas got to his feet and stood back to admire the deep-breathing stark-naked Dean with his eyes closed, sprawled on his back with his legs spread wide and looking limp. Castiel folded his arms and smirked to himself. When Dean opened his eyes seconds later and slowly sat up, the smirk grew wider.

Dean got to his feet and grabbed Cas by his lapels and kissed him hard. He released the lapels once he’d pulled away, satisfied, and slid his hands down Cas’s sides, firmly wrapping his arms around Cas’s waist and pulling their bodies close together. Cas too slid his arms around Dean’s waist, sliding his hands down to his ass, getting a firm grip on it.

‘I fucking love you,’ Dean declared, grinning almost too manically.

‘I know,’ Castiel smirked.

The police radio crackled into life, interrupting them. They both automatically looked towards it, still in their position pressed against each other.

‘Nine-oh-one-h in the bathroom of Nutsch’s Sundowner Bar and Grill.’

A 901h was code that meant a dead body. That bar was the only bar in Chester and it as where the first body had been found. Dean dropped his arms from around Cas at once and dove towards the bag his Fed suit was in. Cas went straight for the floor, hurriedly pulling on his underwear just as there was a knock on the door.

‘You get it,’ Dean said quickly, taking his suit into the bathroom as Cas started pulling on his pants.

‘Just a second,’ Cas called to whoever was at the door, finished with his pants, and then pulled the door open. It was Sam. Sam and Cas spoke at the same time.

‘There’s been another death.’

‘They’re all alive.’

Castiel stared at Sam.

‘ _What_?’

‘They’re alive,’ said Sam, stepping into the room as Cas took a step back to allow him. ‘I refreshed the page for news in the last town we hit, and it says that they’re all alive. But not just alive, _resurrected_. All of the victims, even the ones who were already buried. The graves were cracked open, bodies gone from the morgue, husbands home with wives, sons homes with mothers, _all six guys are alive_.’

‘They’re fucking _what_?’ Dean asked as he emerged from the bathroom, still tying his tie.

‘Resurrected,’ Sam stated in a frenzy, staring at Dean. ‘The guys from the last town. Something – no one knows what and I definitely don’t know – brought them all back to life.’

‘Bullshit,’ said Dean, as Cas replied ‘that’s impossible.’

‘See for yourself,’ Sam shrugged.

He pulled up the page on his phone and thrust it at them. Cas, who was closer, took hold of the phone and brought it over to Dean and the two of them peered at the page. The headline read:

_ALPENA ANGELS_

_There seems to be angels at work in our town Alpena, AR, this miraculous night. As locals will know we lost beloved members of our community, Ted Knight, Logan Foster, David Martin, Hugo Geller, Michael Rudd and Andrew McGuire, each of them all tragically taken from us recently. Well, I can report that they are taken no more!_

_By some otherworldly happenings, all six of these marvellous men have been brought back to us tonight. Logan Foster’s former-widow reports that he was sitting in bed reading a newspaper when she got back from a late shift at work, while Hugo Geller’s mother claims that when feeling down she decided on a late night visit to her son’s grave – which she found blasted open and emptier than her wine glass on a Sunday night._

_Every man returned to his home a short time when the midnight hour hit, police were informed, doctors called, newspapers alerted. It seems as though none of these men have any recollection of their disastrous deaths and each one has informed our paper that they will gladly give an interview for the morning edition._

_Before our bright and ever-ready intern, yours truly, was forced to leave the area to go and write this report up and post it everywhere she can, she, or I, managed to get photographic proof that these men have truly been returned to us. On the left below you can see Michael Rudd and his excited children and stumped sister standing in front of their house this fine night, while three doors down in the picture on the right you can clearly see Ted Knight and his fiancé embracing tearfully. Let’s home those are tears of joy and Paul, the fiancé, isn’t rethinking the wedding that can now be put back on the books._

_It truly is a miracle that these men have been returned to us. What was it that did it? Angels? Fairies? Aliens, even? My editor is as stumped as I am. Hopefully whatever has brought back our boys is going to stick around and bring back some other undeserving people in the future!_

_That’s all we can say for now. Be sure to spread the link to the article around – if anything from our small town is going to go viral, it has to be this. The world needs to know about this unexplained phenomenon!_

The article ended abruptly there. Dean and Castiel exchanged a dark look, which they then shared with Sam, who was staring at them raised, expectant eyebrows.

‘Well, this changes things,’ Dean commented at a false casual.

‘Yeah,’ Sam agreed, nodding slowly. ‘This definitely changes _something_.’


	24. Hello (From The Other Side?)

They split up. It was the only thing for it. Sam stole a car and took it to the bar, and Cas went with Dean who got right back in the Impala and headed back to Alpena. Dean changed _again_ now that he wasn’t going straight to a crime scene and Cas decided to change into something more comfortable and sit in the back seat with his legs stretched out across the empty spaces and a blanket over him to get some sleep and trade off on the driving with Dean when Dean got too tired to continue. Cas had never driven the Impala before, and was frankly shocked that Dean allowed him to.

It was morning by the time they arrived in town. They weren’t sure how long they’d be staying so they didn’t bother checking in anywhere. They changed into clothes that suited today’s cover in the bathroom of the place they grabbed breakfast, and checked in with Sam via a phone call as they ate. Sam informed them that the dead body found had been found just like the bodies of all the other men; necks cracked, dumped by the sinks in the bathroom. Sulfur by the sinks and on the sill.

‘I’m going back to the bar tonight,’ said Sam. ‘And keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.’

‘Be careful,’ Dean warned.

Over breakfast, they borrowed a newspaper from someone who was done with it and saw articles with the late night/early morning interviews of the resurrected. The entire town seemed to be buzzing, on a high from their “miracle” which was clearly something sinister. Dean remembered the last time there had been resurrections and that had been during the apocalypse. It hadn’t ended well.

They spoke to the men and their families after breakfast, excluding who they’d spoken to yesterday. Today they posed as journalists, interested in getting as much detail as possible about the deaths and about the resurrections as possible. The interviews from the paper this morning hadn’t mentioned their deaths, only their resurrections, but Dean and Cas weren’t going to let anything slip by them.

Every man recounted his death the same, but would only talk about without family present. It was obvious why, especially for the married men; they’d all gone into the bathroom with a woman to fool around, and instead she snapped their necks. With her bare hands.

Only one of them told the whole truth about their demon summoning.

‘We only wanted it to do stuff for us,’ the man said in his defense. ‘We wanted it to get us more money, new cars, time off from work and I think Logan wanted his boss gotten rid of … and I was gonna ask it to get my fiancé’s parents to like me. They’re racists, and they’re old fashioned so they don’t like the whole same sex thing, but it turns out we couldn’t control what came. She was nice, though. She said her and her friend could make us very happy, but we had to give her something first because she’d been dead a long time – sex, you know,’ Ted Knight clarified.

‘I get the gist,’ Dean confirmed.

‘I didn’t want to,’ Ted stated. ‘I’m asexual and homoromantic. If you don’t know what that means it means it basically means I don’t have sex. It makes me uncomfortable and I don’t need it, most people understand that so I won’t go on about it – and I only date men, so even if I _wasn’t_ asexual I wouldn’t want to have sex with her. But she _made_ me. With some kind of power. She forced me to go into the bathroom with her, and then she kissed me, and then she pulled away and snapped my neck. And then I was on all fours in front of a blasted open grave.’

‘And you remember nothing in between?’ Dean prompted, pen poised as if ready to take notes, pretending to be eager to hear about some huge unknown afterlife.

‘Nothing,’ Ted stated.

‘But you must,’ Castiel insisted. ‘No matter how short a time you were there for, heaven or hell isn’t something you forget. And if you were dead, you were in one of those places, unless you’re a monster and you’re very good at hiding it, in which case you were in pur–’

‘OKAY,’ Dean said loudly. ‘Is there anything else you can tell us about the demon? Like a name?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Ted said, nodding. ‘Ruby. And she pointed at her friend just after she came in – Emerald. She said Emerald would be watching us to make sure I didn’t try to back out, then Emerald left just before Ruby and me went into the bathroom.’

‘Emerald,’ Dean repeated. ‘And what did Emerald look like? Was she a demon too?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ted shrugged. ‘She didn’t look like one. She looked like an angel. She had this long white hair, and this long white dress. Sorta silvery white. And her skin was almost as pale as her dress was. She was staring at us, but she didn’t speak. Didn’t even move. She just stood there … right up by the doors … like an angel watching over us.’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look and Dean raised his eyebrows. Castiel’s shrug was almost unnoticeable.

‘Thank you for your time,’ Dean said sincerely. ‘And if you remember anything more about anything, call us. Number’s on the card we gave you.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Ted promised. ‘And I want you to print it. Everything. The demons and the angel – cuz I’m not crazy. It’s all real. And if the other guys have any balls at all they’ll tell you the same.’

‘Don’t worry Mr Knight, we believe you,’ Castiel assured him. ‘We know how troublesome demons can be.’

‘Especially ones called Ruby,’ Dean muttered, more to himself than to Ted, remembering _the_ Ruby. ‘I wouldn’t worry about people not believing you. You came back from the dead. People will believe anything you tell them from demons up as far as … claiming you met God and he’s a bad writer who sleeps with his fans.’

It was hard to keep a straight face recalling the whole Chuck/Becky thing from that one Supernatural convention years ago.

‘Naw, I wouldn’t go that far,’ said Ted. ‘I don’t even believe in God. I’m an atheist … or at least I _was_ until that demon … and that angel.’

‘Why would an atheist attempt to summon a demon?’ Castiel asked curiously.

‘I work with Michael Rudd and he knows all about the future in-laws thing and thought it’d be good for me if this worked,’ Ted explained. ‘I didn’t think it would. Guess it did, or I wouldn’t be talking to you guys.’

Dean nodded seriously, Castiel acknowledging too but with a loo rather than a nod.

And that was that.

‘So, a black, gay, asexual, former-atheist who was ganked by a demon and had his ass hauled back from wherever,’ Dean said once they were back in the car, before they decided their next move. ‘That’s not something you see every day. Talk about piling on the minorities.’

‘Those symbols were false,’ Castiel stated in confusion. ‘I don’t understand. They were false. They couldn’t have brought a demon here.’

‘And what about the “angel” this guy was talking about?’

‘There’s no angel called Emerald.’

‘Maybe he misheard,’ Dean suggested. ‘Maybe the Ruby chick said Em … Emriel. There’s a lot of angels with “iel” in their names, right? Castiel. Gabriel. Uriel. Samandriel. Ezekiel. You get the gist.’

‘The closet thing to “Emriel” could perhaps be Ambriel,’ Castiel mused. ‘But that’s impossible. She died the day we rescued Sam from the cage.’

Dean frowned.

‘How do you know?’

‘I ran into her at the site of Amara’s smiting. She walked into the exact spot where Amara stood when whatever happened happened and she burst into flames. It was rather unfortunate … but less so because she called me expendable, which I found to be very hurtful.’

‘She called you _what_?’

‘Expendable.’

‘Fuck her,’ Dean declared.

Castiel frowned deeply.

‘I’d rather not, Dean. She’s an angel which means she’s technically my sister, she was in a female vessel, I’m currently in a relationship, and she’s dead, which makes that impossible.’

It took Dean a moment to realize that Cas hadn’t taken it literally and was making a joke, but when he did realize he laughed, Cas smiling at him, and he placed a hand on Cas’s knee.

‘Don’t _literally_ fuck her,’ he said with a laugh. ‘And you’re not expendable. We’d be dead without you.’

‘I know,’ Castiel replied, a little smugly. ‘But her words did hurt. Even in the cage, with Lucifer, there was a moment when I wanted to say “yes” thinking maybe he could use me as a vessel and escape out into the world and stop The Darkness, but …’

‘But?’ Dean prompted. ‘I mean you didn’t, right? You’re not possessed.’

‘I didn’t,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘Because then I looked over his shoulder and I saw you and although I wanted to say yes so he could use my “expendable” self, I realized when I saw you, or at least I _hoped_ when I saw you, that me being possessed would hurt you, and Sam too, in some way.’

Dean immediately pulled the now-sad looking (former) angel into his chest and gripped him tightly.

‘It wouldn’t hurt me “in some way,”’ Dean declared, tightening his hold. ‘It would fucking kill me. Thank fuck you didn’t say yes. Thank _fuck_.’

Castiel hugged Dean back, smiling into his shoulder. And then he pulled away.

‘No matter,’ he said evenly, getting back to what was important right now, ‘what are we going to do now in relation to this case? Personally, I think we should look at the graves that were blown open and see if there was anything left at the scene that may indicate who or what resurrected these men.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Dean agreed, slapping Cas’s shoulder once before he started the car. ‘We’ll figure this out eventually. We always do. Because the-totally-not-expendable-you and me make a damn good team.’

‘Maybe even a great team?’ Castiel asked brightly as Dean got them away from the sidewalk and back on the road.

‘I might even go as far as to say we’re the perfect team,’ Dean grinned.

Cas smiled to himself, leaning back in his seat.

‘The perfect team,’ he repeated. ‘The _perfect_ team. I like it.’

‘Yeah,’ said Dean, nodding. ‘Because you know … if you like causing trouble up in hotel rooms, if you like having secret little rendezvous, if you like to do the things you know that we shouldn’t do … and if you like midnight driving with the windows down, if you like going places we can’t even pronounce, if you like doing the things that you’ve been dreaming about then we’re perfect.’

Castiel turned towards Dean, narrowing his eyes.

‘I’ve heard that on the radio, you ass,’ he scolded him. ‘Stop stealing lyrics.’

‘It’s not stealing unless they file a copyright lawsuit,’ Dean said with a wink.

Castiel laughed again. The atmosphere in the car really didn’t seem like the atmosphere of a vehicle containing people on route to a grave yard, which they reached in no time. No one had yet bothered dealing with the graves, so they were still wide, gaping holes in the ground. The dirt that had been filling them was gone and the coffins were wide open.

Dean looked into one of the open graves and then sat on the edge. He dropped in, landing next to the coffin, and peered inside. There was no evidence of foul play from the inside. Dean gently lowered the lid, and that’s where the evidence was.

‘Cas,’ Dean called from in the hole, ‘come look at this.’

Castiel frowned and gingerly dropped into the grave, landing beside Dean. There, on the lid of the coffin, was a handprint burned dark into the light brown wood. Castiel’s frown deepened.

‘Doesn’t that look familiar?’ Cas asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Dean. ‘It looks like the handprint that used to be on my shoulder.’

Castiel’s hand automatically reached for the shoulder where his hand print used to be. Dean’s hand on the arm opposite joined Cas’s hand, resting over it.

‘So it was an angel,’ Castiel assumed.

‘Seems like it,’ Dean agreed darkly. ‘Are you _sure_ there’s no angel called Emerald?’

‘I’m positive,’ said Castiel. ‘And anyway, it’s highly unlikely that the angel is the woman Ted spoke of. Angels never _look_ like angels. They just look like people, or at least their vessels do.’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean said, folding his arms and looking Cas up and down. ‘You look pretty angelic to me. It’s a stereotype in pop culture that angels that appear are supposed to be super pretty and super hot, right?’

Castiel frowned at him.

‘Are you seriously attempting to flirt with me when we’re standing in a _grave_?’

‘Come on, man. It’s not like there’s a body in it.’

‘It’s still inappropriate.’

‘Fine, I’m sorry,’ Dean apologized. ‘Now let’s get out of here and see if the print is on any of the other busted graves.’

It was the same in the other three graves. The hand print burned into the wood. Once back in the car, they called Sam to tell him about it, and he suggested they check out the morgue the other two men had been in too, which they did, to find hand prints on the drawers, further confirming the fact that it just _had_ to be an angel. What other creature left hand prints and had that kind of power? None that they could think of.

‘But _which_ angel?’ was always the question.

‘What ones do you think it could be?’ Dean asked. ‘I mean, what ones are ones that either want to rebel and bring back people they think don’t deserve to die, or want to rebel and work with demons if it was _planned_ that the demon kills, angel brings back, people stir up trouble?’

‘Briathos, maybe,’ Castiel suggested. ‘Briathos always did have a thing for thwarting demons.’

‘Could be,’ said Dean, nodding.

‘Or Eae. Same thing. Or perhaps Leo – when thought about, there are several angels who have always been up for working against demons and undoing their doings.’

‘And any that might work _with_ demon?’

‘Any angel could turn to the dark side,’ Castiel said gravely. ‘Especially now. Since the angels fell, new angels have been coming to Earth every day to do no one knows what. Their activities could include working with demons to stir trouble and create publicity, as you said.’

Dean nodded again, and then frowned, tilting his head to the side, pensive.

‘What about Lucifer?’

Castiel joined him in his frowning.

‘You think Lucifer may have brought these people back to life?’

‘It’s a possibility, isn’t it?’

‘Perhaps … but what would he be doing this for? Resurrecting humans from the dead isn’t exactly what Lucifer is known for.’

‘He could be trying to get some attention,’ Dean theorized. ‘Try to get word out to other angels that he’s back, hoping that some’ll show up and take him to heaven as a prisoner. It’s not like any of the angels can reopen the cage, and only Gabriel and Michael know how – or hey, it could be them. They were resurrected, right?’

‘They were,’ Castiel nodded, speaking slowly. ‘But as far as we know, they’ve been preoccupied with Amara and hiding her from God.’

‘Hey, it’s just a theory,’ Dean shrugged, moving on fast. ‘So what now? Have we anything left to do here?’

‘It doesn’t seem as though there is,’ said Castiel.

‘Then maybe we should grab some late lunch and head on back to Sam and try to stop whatever’s going on there. Seems like the same thing that happened here, doesn’t it?’

‘It does,’ Castiel agreed.  ‘But if what’s happening in Chester is the same as what happened here, doesn’t that mean that there will be six deaths, followed by six resurrections?’

‘Maybe. But wouldn’t it be better for everyone if we managed to stop the deaths before they happen? Catch the ones behind it and get to some questioning? And if we can’t stop it, stake out the graves and the morgue after everyone’s dead to see what shows up to bring them back to life?’

‘That does sound better than sitting and hoping for death and resurrection,’ Castiel said with a nod. ‘I think we should do it.’

‘Great. Pulled over on the side of the road or in a bathroom somewhere?’

A puzzled expression and a neat frown graced Cas’s features.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You said you think we should _do it_.’

Castiel placed a hand over his eyes and sighed.

‘You’re ridiculous,’ he stated.

‘Oh come on, it’s not like I can help it,’ Dean said suggestively. ‘You look hot when you’re all … hunty.’

Castiel folded his arms over his chest and stared pointedly at Dean with a set serious expression on his face.

‘Keep it in your pants, Winchester. We’re in a _morgue._ ’

Dean headed for the door.

‘Do I have to keep it in my pants when we’re in the car?’ he asked, smirking.

‘If you don’t want to get distracted and crash, then I would advise it.’

‘Then stop looking so hot and stop using my last name and talking all serious,’ Dean instructed him shortly. ‘Because it’s not helping.’

Cas rolled his eyes, and followed Dean out.

All flirtatious jokes aside, there were still serious tones even as they ate lunch together, despite them not talking about the case at all. After lunch they called Sam to tell him the morgue was the same as the graves and they were coming back, and he told them he’d go to the front desk of the motel and have their room ready to be checked into when they arrived, for which they were grateful. They were both in need of sleep after being short of it last night, and even the night before.

They managed to distract themselves from thinking actively about the case over the drive. When they were about an hour away, Sam texted them saying he was heading off to the bar and there was no need to meet him there because he was fine alone. Dean didn’t like that very much, but Sam assured him he shouldn’t worry and that he and Cas should take some time out to take a rest after two long drives on very little sleep, plus a long work day. Dean and Cas decided to do just that, but set an alarm on one of their phones to wake them two hours after they collapsed on top of the bed, still dressed and ready for action as soon as they woke up.

Sam, however, was completely fine with going it alone. The bar wasn’t busy as he took a seat and ordered a drink, but nothing with alcohol. He needed to be on his game tonight. He cast an eye around and tried to appear normal, looking down at his phone every so often. He was texting Aroura and she was telling him about how she was spending time with a friend, a friend who was asking about him.

 _Tell her I’m tall and cute_ , he texted, already cringing at his own words, when Aroura replied, _already done_.

And then he almost dropped his phone, because holy fucking shit, the woman who had just walked in next to the woman in the white dress was _dead_. She had died years ago, Sam had watched her die, and she _saw_ Sam, a smirk spreading across her face as she headed straight for him, the silvery-white glowing, floating woman at her side.

‘Hello, Sam,’ said the dead woman.

‘Goodbye, Sam,’ said the white one.

The next thing he knew, Sam was waking up to banging on his motel room door, and he was sprawled out on his bed on top of the covers. He hurriedly scrambled up to pull the door open, to see a frantic Dean and a worried looking Cas on the other side of it.

‘Where the hell were you?’ Dean demanded at once.

‘What?’

‘ _Where the hell were you_?’ Dean repeated.

‘I was … I was at the bar, I think …’

‘You _think_?’

‘What’s going on?’

‘There’s been another death,’ Castiel explained, before Dean could say anything, ‘and we were worried, because you weren’t answering your phone.’

Sam frowned, stepping out of the way to allow them in and rooting in his pocket for his phone at the same time which he pulled out to find had died. He stared at the blank drained battery for a moment and blinked, as if confused as to how it was possible that the battery was dead.

‘It’s dead,’ he stated. ‘So … when did the other person die?’

‘About five minutes ago,’ Dean answered gruffly. ‘What’s up with you? Why aren’t you at the bar?’

‘I …’

Sam paused. He legitimately couldn’t remember a thing from the moment he walked into the bar up to just now, when he’d awoken. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to force details into his head, and some of them started trickling back in, but they couldn’t be possible. Or that one detail couldn’t be possible …

‘I … I’m … saw … Ruby?’

Dean raised his eyebrows.

‘“I’m saw Ruby?”’

‘ _I_ saw Ruby,’ Sam repeated clearly, shutting his tightly. ‘I saw Ruby.’

‘The dark haired demon we told you about?’ Castiel asked curiously, showing some concern for Sam’s apparent confusion.

‘Yeah,’ Sam nodded, swallowing. ‘But it wasn’t just a random Ruby. It was _Ruby_ Ruby.’

‘Who’s “Ruby” Ruby?’ Dean asked.

‘As in apocalypse Ruby. Fake me married fake her Ruby. _The_ Ruby.’

Dean stared at him. Castiel looked from Sam to Dean and back again. An unknown passage of time went by before anyone spoke. When someone did, it was Dean.

‘That’s impossible,’ he straightforwardly. ‘She’s dead. I killed her.’

‘I know,’ said Sam. ‘But she was _there_.’

Castiel did that squinty-eyed thing in his confusion.

‘But … why?’

‘ _Why_?’ Dean demanded. ‘Don’t you mean _how the fuck_?’

‘A lot of people are being resurrected these days if you recall, Dean,’ Castiel said darkly, implying that the resurrections he was talking about were ones Sam didn’t know about. ‘So the question is not “how”. The question is why _her_? And another important one: what are she and her friend up to?’

‘It can’t be Ruby,’ Dean insisted, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest as he sauntered over and sat on the end of the bed. ‘It’s just some chick who looks like her with a different demon in her meatsuit.’

‘But she knew me,’ said Sam nervously. ‘She said “hello, Sam.”’

‘A lot of demons know who you are,’ Dean brushed off. ‘You’re Sam fucking Winchester. Demons hate you.’

‘This was _different_ ,’ Sam claimed. ‘She didn’t just know my name. She smiled like she knew _me._ ’

‘So was the other one there?’ Dean asked, ignoring his claims. ‘Emerald?’

‘Dean, _Ruby_ –’

‘Was Emerald there?’ Dean persisted.

Sam exhaled harshly, his face showing his annoyance, but he didn’t comment on how Dean was ignoring his concerns.

‘Yes,’ Sam replied slowly. ‘She was there. White hair. White dress. I don’t remember her face.’

‘And did she say anything?’

‘She said “goodbye” and I don’t remember what happened after that.’

‘What time was that at?’ Castiel asked, frowning at him.

‘Uh … nine-thirty-ish?’

‘It’s almost midnight now.’

‘ _What_?’

Castiel pulled out his phone to further validate his announcement of the time. He flashed the screen at Sam, who looked at the time and a look of horror passed over him.

‘That’s impossible,’ he stated.

‘And seeing dead people isn’t?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘Good point,’ Sam muttered, pulling his own phone back out again as he went to find his phone charger to plug it in. ‘So what? Do we go check out the bar or …?’

Dean stood up, watching Sam with a disapproving look.

‘We go,’ he decided, gesturing himself and Cas, ‘you stay. Figure out what happened to you tonight. Remind yourself that that demon, no matter how much she looks like her, is _not_ Ruby.’

‘Dean, I’m fine, I can –’

‘Go to sleep, Sam,’ Dean said over him, strolling over to the door. ‘Come on, Cas.’

Dean had opened the door and closed it behind him, expecting Cas to follow, before anyone could reply. Sam watched the closed door with an unimpressed look. Castiel glanced at the door, then back at Sam.

‘For what it’s worth, I believe you,’ he stated, on his way to follow Dean out. ‘All I want to know is why _her_.’

‘Yeah,’ Sam agreed, with a dark, ironic sigh of a laugh. ‘Me too.’

‘Get some rest,’ Cas suggested before he left.

Castiel caught up with Dean who was lingering nearby and they headed back to their room together without speaking, to freshen up and get ready to head to the bar. They barely spoke to each other in the room, besides a “you look fine” and a “here, let me help” when Cas was trying to straighten his collar and Dean took charge of it. But once they were in the car, on the way to the bar, it was easier to speak.

‘So, any ideas yet?’ Dean asked, staring straight ahead without looking at Cas.

‘No,’ Cas said blankly. ‘Just concerns. One of them being, why don’t you believe that Sam may have seen Ruby earlier this evening?’

‘Oh, I believe he saw her alright,’ Dean said easily, unexpectedly, causing Cas to frown deeply at him in confusion. ‘God brought back two of his right-hand-angels, so Lucifer hauled back one of the demons that worked to crack him out of the cage back before the apocalypse. I just don’t want _Sam_ to know I believe him.’

‘Why not?’ Castiel inquired, turning some of his upper body towards Dean too to try and get a better view of his face to read his expression.

‘Because that whole situation was messy,’ Dean said grimly. ‘Getting him hooked on blood. Tricking him into trusting here. Tricking _all_ of us for the most part. And what with this whole Lucifer thing, dreams and visions or whatever … Sam doesn’t need this.’

‘So you’re doing it out of affection for your brother,’ Castiel realized.

‘Yeah, that,’ Dean agreed. ‘There’s enough crap going on without this. So let him forget about Ruby, let him know that the three of us will deal with this whole Lucifer thing, let him have his thing with Aroura and do whatever comes with that, but try to keep most of the bad stuff away from him.’

‘Which just puts more pressure on you,’ said Cas.

‘Lucifer doesn’t want up _my_ ass,’ Dean said simply. ‘And Ruby didn’t turn me into a freakin’ vampire. None of it is as tough on me as it is on him.’

Castiel nodded, turning away now. He no longer needed to read Dean’s expression; Dean looked determined and certain of his words, and like he meant business but still cared. Typical Dean. Never thinking of himself. Always doing everything he could to protect Sam. Cas admired him for that.

The bar was closed for the night when they arrived. Some police officers were talking to staff and possible witnesses, and inside in the bathroom, forensics were sweeping the place. Getting to talk to the forensics team seemed like it would have been helpful, but it wasn’t. There were no finger prints, no stray hairs, and the only thing they thought about the sulfur that it was weird and unimportant, clearly unrelated to the killings.

They gained no new information from the visit. The witnesses and staff all said the same as the ones in Alpena, with their vague descriptions. Castiel suggested to the bar manager that he close down the place for a while. The manager wouldn’t hear of it, insisting that they couldn’t close down the only place people could come to drink in town, but that everything was fine and they’d just add some security by the doors on the lookout for suspicious customers.

‘The ignorance of many humans astounds me,’ Castiel muttered angrily under his breath as they walked away, back towards the car. ‘People are dying night after night. This is ridiculous.’

‘Oh, closing the place down would be bad for business of course,’ Dean agreed sarcastically, ‘but people dying in the bathroom? Nah. That’s nothing.’

They were too annoyed and too tired to discuss the case anymore by the time they got back to the motel after passing bitter comments and some theories back and forth throughout the drive. Once they got to their room, they undressed and climbed into bed without speaking, laying side by side with matching glares directed at the ceiling, their arms folded over the covers.

‘It _could_ be for fun,’ Castiel suggested again, his voice still filled with annoyance, bringing back a theory about what these demons were up to that he’d brought up in the car.

‘Could be,’ Dean agreed at a grunt.

‘But of course, with things like this there’s almost always an ulterior motive.’

‘Which probably ties in with the resurrection thing from the last town …’

They went back and forth and around in circles for another while as they lay there, until they got too tired to continue. Castiel huffed and turned onto his side, still glaring ahead of him in the darkness, his mind buzzing, thoughts and memories bouncing around inside his head while at the same time he was trying to come up with something, _anything_ that could make this whole thing less confusing. And, on top of all that, his over-thinking while tired was giving him a headache.

Castiel didn’t manage to relax until he felt Dean press up against his back and put an arm over his waist. Cas’s arm automatically bent so that his hand was level with Dean’s and they joined hands. It didn’t take long for sleep to find him.

The next day was a jumble of activity. Sam went to check out the house of the latest victim to find out if he, like the others, was using those fake demon summoning items, which it turned out that he was. Meanwhile, Dean and Castiel, just for a test, used information found on that ridiculous website to try summoning for themselves, farther proving the falseness of the information on the site. After that once Sam was back with them, Dean said he had some business to take care of and drove the hour drive back to the bunker to check out some books he wanted to check out on resurrection be it on humans, angels or demons while Sam and Cas made a plan to visit the bar again that night in the hopes that whatever happened to Sam last night may not happen tonight.

‘And you still don’t remember what happened last night?’ Castiel prompted.

‘Nothing after Ruby,’ Sam said with an annoyed sigh. ‘But tonight there’ll be two of us. Three, if Dean comes.’

‘He’ll come,’ Castiel assumed. ‘He would never pass up an opportunity to go to a bar. It’s been several weeks since he’s been to a bar. He barely even drank over Christmas and the New Year. He’s been deprived of consuming alcohol and flirting with bar staff for so long it astounds me that he’s still on two feet.’

Sam chuckled.

‘I doubt he’ll need to flirt with bar staff anymore,’ Sam reminded him jestingly. ‘He’s got you, remember?’

‘I know,’ Castiel replied modestly, looking down with a shy smile, ‘but his flirtations nature around those he finds attractive is a part of who Dean is, even if it’s accidental. Besides, he hasn’t seen boobs in a while, so being around attractive bar workers in low cut clothing should make it impossible not to accidentally make a flirtatious comment.’

Sam’s chuckle turned into more of a giggle.

‘I can’t believe you just said _boobs_.’

Castiel frowned at him.

‘Why not?’

‘It just seems unnatural for you,’ Sam said with a shrug and a hint of a laugh. ‘It’s weird to hear a, uh, a former angel of the _lord_ saying stuff like that.’

‘Would you rather I used a different word?’ Castiel offered.

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ Sam said quickly. ‘It doesn’t bother me or anything. It’s just kinda funny. So just … boob on.’

Castiel raised an eyebrow, slowly, arching it in a way that would most likely make Dean need to take a deep breath and look away to avoid getting distracted, were he here.

‘“Boob on”?’

‘I don’t know the appropriate term to use!’ Sam defended himself. ‘Let me off the hook, would you?’

Castiel laughed.

‘Fine. Then “boob on” or whatever the appropriate term is.’

‘We’re talking about boobs?’ came Dean’s voice as he entered the room, his eyebrows raised in not-unwelcome surprise.

‘No,’ Castiel replied, rolling his eyes at Dean’s well-timed entrance. ‘Are you coming to the bar with us tonight in an attempt to scope out what’s going on?’

‘A building full of hot chicks drinking alcohol?’ Dean asked, eyebrows raised, grin on. ‘I wouldn’t miss it.’

‘Of course he mentions chicks but not guys,’ Sam muttered, leaning closer to Cas. ‘Still acting like he’s totally straight. Typical.’

‘I can hear you, Sam,’ Dean said boredly, throwing the two of them an unimpressed look as Castiel fought to keep his silent laughter from showing.

‘Good for you,’ Sam said encouragingly.

‘I’ll alert the media,’ Castiel added, smiling smugly at Dean, but keeping a look of complete innocence that drove Dean’s eyebrows downwards into the most pissed-off frown he could muster when Cas looked that fucking _cute._

Looking at Sam’s wavering expression, though, kept Dean’s annoyance steady. Then Sam, unable to keep from it anymore, started laughing and wasn’t able to stop, so Dean wordlessly took a pillow from the bed and tossed it at him, but he caught it.

‘I thought throwing things at each other was our thing,’ Castiel said quietly, in a false hurt voice.

‘I throw things at whoever annoys me,’ Dean stated. ‘So are we getting food or what? I’m starving.’

Sam and Cas both rolled their eyes at him, but Sam, who had been analyzing that stupid website again, closed his laptop and stood up.

‘Yeah, let’s eat,’ he decided. ‘Cas? You coming?’

Castiel considered it, took the pillow Sam had not yet put down and was still holding in one hand, and took it quickly. When he threw it at Dean, Dean didn’t expect it so it reached its target and then fell onto the floor. With a satisfied smile now, Cas stood and took a step forward.

‘I’m coming,’ he decided, his smile going from satisfied to formal and pleasant as Dean threw him a dirty look before he bent over to get the pillow to toss back onto the bed.

‘Pleased with yourself?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘Quite pleased, yes.’

Sam shook his head in disbelief, putting a hand to his face with a sigh.

‘You two are complete losers.’ Then he lowered his hand and looked like he struck gold. ‘You’re _Losechesters_.’

Dean looked utterly horrified by Sam’s statement.

‘Don’t you fucking dare butcher the English language with your fucking shitty _puns_ ,’ Dean warned, pointing a finger at him.

‘That’s what they’ll call you two when you get married,’ Sam said gleefully, looking self-satisfied. ‘Mr and Mr Losechester. Demons run when the Losechesters come for them, and the ones that escape come looking for me because they can’t bear to be killed by such complete idiots.’

‘Woah, woah,’ Dean said quickly. ‘Hold your … hold your horses there, Sam, who said anything about _marriage_? It hasn’t even been a month yet and you’re picking fucking china patterns for us?’

‘It’s a joke, Dean,’ Sam groaned with another roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. Then he frowned at him. ‘China patterns?’

‘Shut up,’ Dean grumbled. ‘Come on. Food.’

Dean swept out of the room leaving Sam and Cas behind to look at each other. Sam raised his eyebrows. Cas shrugged, his expression suddenly meek. They followed Dean out, just in time to hear him mutter, ‘ _you’re_ the fucking _Losechester_.’

During their late lunch, they didn’t get too into talking about the case. Sam asked what Dean had gone back to the bunker for and he shrugged, saying he was looking for some books but he didn’t find anything. When Sam looked back down at his salad, Dean gave Cas a casual wink. Cas raised his eyebrows and Dean minimally nodded once, so Cas knew that he had found something, and he’d tell him when they were alone.

After they ate they went back to the motel and Sam decided to go off to his room to do some research on the history of the bar and on the history of the last bar to see if the two of them related to each other in any way, while Dean and Cas went to their room. Once they were in and sitting and comfortable, Dean pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Cas.

‘What’s this?’ Castiel asked, frowning at the folded note.

‘Paragraph I found from some dusty old book in the library,’ said Dean. ‘I wrote it out for you. It basically describes a ritual a demon is supposed to do, usually alone, sometimes with an accomplice, to gain the attention of either God or Lucifer. And we don’t know which one’s paying attention, so I thought we’d better figure that out before we tell Sam.’

Castiel opened up the paper and read over it quickly. He placed it down, frowning.

‘So what’s the third town?’ he asked.

‘Somewhere in New Mexico, probably,’ Dean assumed. ‘And the fourth would be in Texas.’

‘ _If_ there’s a fourth,’ Castiel said darkly.

The paper described the ritual in simple words. For Lucifer, it was six sacrifices in three towns forming a triangle when their spots on the map were connected with straight lines. For God it was four towns, the final town with only one sacrifice, forming a diamond shape. Once the demon in question finished in one town, either God or Lucifer would come along and resurrect those fallen, wiping the memories of the goriest parts of their deaths.

‘There’s no way to know,’ said Dean, ‘until it’s over.’

‘But why would a demon be trying to get the attention of God?’

‘Who knows?’ Dean asked with a shrug. ‘Why do demons do anything they do? Why do some slaughter towns for fun while others fall in love with angels?’

Castiel frowned.

‘What demon do you know that’s fallen in love with an angel?’

‘Meg,’ Dean stated simply. ‘Remember?’

‘Oh …’ Castiel looked uneasy. ‘Sure.’

‘Anyway,’ Dean said, sensing Cas’s unease, ‘demons are weird.’

‘We can assume that Ruby is trying to get the attention of Lucifer, right?’ Castiel asked. ‘If he’s the one who brought her back, she would want to get his attention to thank him or to see what he wants.’

‘Maybe,’ Dean nodded, ‘but we can’t be sure since we know nothing about this Emerald, who she is, what she is, why she’s involved … what do you think?’

Castiel fell silent, looking pensive under Dean’s surveying watch. He picked up the paper again and read over it, staring at the words, like his eyes were burning holes in the paper trying to get something more out of what was written than what was there.

‘I think we should go to the bar tonight,’ Castiel decided, putting the paper down but keeping his eyes on it, not really seeing it anymore. ‘And see for ourselves what goes on there. And if there’s no … obvious signs that this Emerald is anything good, then we have to assume …’

‘Big flashing lights for Lucifer.’

‘To put it frankly.’

‘So if after tonight if we’re almost sure it’s Lucifer, we tell Sam about this,’ Dean stated distinctly, looking certain of his words, until uncertainty crept in. ‘But if it seems like all this crap might be for God …’

‘Then we call on him,’ Castiel said, more of a final decision than a statement, but there was always room to argue. ‘Either him or … her. The Holy One.’

Dean nodded, falling silent. After a sigh, he spoke again.

‘Kind of an unnecessarily brutal ritual to get _God’s_ attention,’ he commented. ‘I can see it for Lucifer, but God? Isn’t he supposed to be against killing people for kicks?’

‘It would seem so,’ Castiel agreed, ‘but it also seems as though everyone seems to need blood to be spilled just for their attention. And, after all, everyone who is killed is resurrected again.’

‘Yeah, I guess …’ Dean groaned. ‘I just feel like … we’re missing something.’

‘Aren’t we always?’ Cas asked, his eyebrows raised and his head tilted in a knowing way.

‘Pretty fucking much,’ Dean muttered irritably, drumming his fingers on his knee restlessly.

Some time passed between the two of them in silence. Castiel spent the time frowning at the ground while Dean spent it staring straight ahead looking like he had a moderate headache, but it was clear he was just thinking, trying to figure out what it was that didn’t add up.

After a while, Cas got it.

‘The website.’

Once that was clear, everything else that didn’t add up came out.

‘And the summoning rituals,’ Dean added. ‘They don’t make any sense if this is a ritual.’

‘Unless … the website was created in the hopes that people in appropriate towns would discover it and therefore would have an excuse to believe in and trust demons?’

‘Cas, you’re a genius,’ Dean said proudly.

‘I know,’ Castiel replied, smiling haughtily. ‘And now it seems as though we’ve solved the case. All that’s left is to visit the bar tonight, and to figure out what happened when Sam went there last night. And then we just …’

‘Wait and see if it’s for God or Lucifer?’ Dean asked. ‘Or do we try to stop it?’

‘I think we should try stopping it tonight, if we can,’ Castiel said reasonably. ‘But if it turns out that this whole thing was for God …’

‘Not likely, but you never know. This Emerald chick could be converting demons. She’s the good guy, the … the you to Ruby’s Meg.’

Castiel nodded slowly.

‘I think we should just wait and see,’ he said, a little more quietly. ‘Wait and see, and then we can decide our plan of action, if there is one.’

Dean nodded his agreement. That settled the matter.

When Sam returned from his research, he’d found no connections. This wasn’t shocking; there were no connections to find, and if there were they’d be coincidental. These towns were just dots on a map, the bars just a place to go within the dots to do what needed to be done, and the three of them did go to the bar together that night, dressed casual, looing inconspicuous, sitting at the table closest to the doors for a good look, pretending to drink the beers they’d had to order and eventually actually drinking them since one beer couldn’t hurt, it’s not like it was about to throw them off their game and they’d been here for over a half hour.

A half hour soon turned into a whole one. And then a whole and a half. There was no sign of a Ruby or an Emerald or some man who appeared to be waiting, just regular bar activity and a bartender with boobs that Dean didn’t even glance at, not even accidentally, which both surprised and pleased Cas, who proudly beamed and reached out a hand towards him, declaring ‘hey look, my boyfriend’s back!’ and once that was followed by a giggle, he took that as his cue to switch to something non-alcoholic.

Sam too had to switch once he started to feel a buzz (Dean having stopped after one beer since he was driving) which wouldn’t have crept in if they hadn’t had to sit there for hours waiting for something to happen while nothing did.

Until it did. But not in the bar; the scream came from outside and carried all the way in, the scream of some woman who declared there was someone dead in the parking lot.

Sam, Dean and Cas all headed out to the body as the local police were called. They pulled out their FBI badges as they went, advising everyone to step back. Dean borrowed a flashlight from someone to be able to see better and there he was, pale, dead, broken-necked in a dark corner of the parking lot. With his borrowed torch, Dean frantically rushed around the area yet there were no clues as to who had been there, apart from a light scent of sulfur which he only caught when the wind changed direction.

‘Damn it,’ he muttered to himself.

There had been no witnesses. They talked to the woman who had found the body, who said she’d only seen him when the headlights of her car flashed and his corpse was illuminated.  They thanked her, and then headed back to their motel.

‘So they decided to change things up,’ was Sam’s only comment.

‘Seems like it,’ said Dean.

‘So what?’ Sam asked. ‘Next time we stake out the parking lot?’

Dean looked into the mirror to lock eyes with Cas in the back seat briefly. Cas appeared to shrug.

‘Sure,’ Dean answered. ‘We stake out the parking lot. Whatever you want.’

But the next night, the parking lot stake out was just as pointless as the night at the bar before it. The fourth victim, or sacrifice, wasn’t killed anywhere near the bar. Cas read in the back seat in between looking for suspicious activity. He’d moved on to Mockingjay now, and was making his way through it quickly. Dean was listening to some music through headphones at a low volume while staring out the windshield, barely even blinking. Sam was doing the same, but using binoculars with a light on the end. Whenever his eyes got tired, he and Cas would switch off on using the things.

They didn’t know about the fourth death until they heard sirens. Dean pulled his headphones at once and started to drive, following the sound of the sirens, right to a house close by. There was already an ambulance there, and just as they arrived shortly behind the police, a body covered by a sheet was being loaded into the ambulance.

‘I heard him scream,’ said the man’s tearful twenty one year old daughter, ‘and by the time I got upstairs  my room is in the basement – his bedroom window was open and he … he …’

‘Don’t force yourself,’ Sam said gently, putting a consoling hand on her shoulder, ‘you did great. We’ll take it from here.’

They scoped out the area around the house and the other houses near it, but there wasn’t a single sign to signal that there was anyone still around. Defeated for the second night in a row, there was nothing to do but go back to their motel.

‘There’ll be two more if it’s the same deal as the last town,’ Sam informed the other two as if they didn’t already know. ‘And they’re mixing it up. It doesn’t seem like we’re ever going to win, does it?’

‘Maybe we should just … give up,’ Castiel suggested, sitting forward in his seat to be closer to the brothers in the front. ‘If this is like what happened in the last town, everyone dead will be resurrected again anyway.’

‘What do you mean _give up_?’ Sam asked, exasperatedly, turning in his seat to be better faced with Cas. ‘We can’t do that. People are dying. And even if they all come back, we still haven’t figured out _how_.’

‘Well then we can visit the graveyard the night after the sixth death,’ Cas shrugged. ‘And see what shows up for the resurrection.’

‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Dean agreed. ‘Face it, Sam. We’ve got nothing. The bunker’s only an hour away. We get home tonight, get out of that crappy motel, not have to eat at greasy diners for a couple days and then head back when we need to. Keep an ear on the radio, an eye on the news, see if the resurrections from the last town go viral like they wanted.’

Sam sigh in defeat, leading back and staring ahead of him blankly.

‘I guess so,’ he said eventually. ‘Since there’s nothing we can do.’

‘Then we’ll go pick up our stuff then head home,’ Dean decided. Half looking into the mirror, Cas’s eyes meeting his as he spoke, he added, ‘and tomorrow I’ll check out some books in the library and see if there’s anything on … murder and resurrection rituals.’

‘That’s a pretty good idea actually,’ Sam said thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, do that.’

All three of them were grateful to get back to their own beds after they picked up their stuff at the motel and drove home, bed being the first place they went. Cas had shed his clothes and fallen asleep curled up with his mass of pillows before Dean had even fully undressed. Although, since he fell asleep first, Cas woke up first.

When Dean awoke, Cas was positioning the two Hunger Games books he’d finished standing upright on a shelf with his Charlie string doll between them. Dean smiled fondly at his bare back, sliding his eyes up and down his torso. When Castiel turned around and noticed Dean watching him, he smiled pleasantly.

‘Good morning Dean,’ he greeted.

‘Morning,’ Dean said back, raising himself into a sitting position as Cas wandered over and sat down on the edge of Dean’s side of the bed, somewhere around Dean’s midriff.

‘You seemed to sleep well,’ Castiel informed him. ‘Although you did mutter something about demons in your sleep ten minutes ago. And pizza.’

‘Demons and pizza?’ Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Hate one. Love the other. Interesting thing to be muttering about.’

‘I found it interesting,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Although the pizza seemed to be stressing you out. You muttered “pizza, pizza!” in an agitated manor and then rolled onto your other side.’

‘Maybe the demon stole my pizza,’ Dean suggested. Castiel smiled and Dean grinned back at him, a sudden thought occurring to him that cut the grin short and made him frown. ‘Speaking of demons, you should really get inked now you’re human.’

‘Inked?’ Castiel inquired.

‘Y’know, this,’ said Dean, pointing at the anti-possession tattoo on his chest and running his other hand up Cas’s arm and then across to his chest. ‘It doesn’t have to be in the same place but you should have it somewhere. To be safe.’

Castiel nodded.

‘I think that’s a good idea,’ he agreed, and suddenly he began to smile again. ‘You know, I quite like the whole concept of humans – I mean people – having things permanently inked into their skin. It shows their compassion for whatever it is they’re having put at them.’

‘Oh, totally,’ Dean agreed lightly. ‘All the drunk people who get smiley faces tattooed on their asses? So compassionate.’

Cas rolled his eyes.

‘You know what I mean,’ he said firmly. ‘For example, when I was having my angel warding done, there was a man getting the names of his wife and daughter on his arm with two hearts and … and parchment, I think, across the hearts. I can’t fully recall. But I spoke to him, and he seemed passionate about his choice of permanent marking. It’s sort of an art form, isn’t it?’

Dean frowned, taking a moment to think about it. He supposed, for people who weren’t getting warding and sigils, it was.

‘I guess it is,’ he agreed, nodding slightly while looking at Cas who seemed to be thinking about it deeply. ‘Like the tattoo artists have to go to art school and everything, probably. So they don’t fuck up the design.’

‘Exactly,’ Castiel agreed, looking ahead of him with a hint of a frown. ‘I think perhaps, if I were to express myself through this art form, I’d like wings. To remind me of when you told me that I’d always be an angel, whether I’m actually an angel or not.’

‘Then get wings,’ Dean said simply.

‘What?’

‘Get wings,’ he shrugged. ‘If you want. Go crazy.’

Cas raised his eyebrows and cracked a grin.

‘Crazy like Stella from Orange Is The New Black?’

Dean laughed.

‘Hell yeah. She looks _hot_. Ink on, man. Go to town.’

Cas joined Dean in his laughter, but it tapered off soon as he went back to frowning again, as if seriously considering it. Dean watched his expression, and could tell when Cas had made his mind up, because he started smiling again.

‘I’ll do it,’ he boldly stated, looking at Dean with a proud expression. ‘I’ll get wings, and I’ll get the anti-possession tattoo between them.’

‘You can start looking up wing designs after breakfast,’ Dean grinned, with equal pride. ‘Don’t half ass it. Find something you like, find a tattoo artist, then let’s do it.’

‘Okay,’ Cas beamed.

‘Then okay.’

They fell silent again. Neither of them made any move that signaled they were about to get up and start the day. Their silence was comfortable, Cas smiling to himself about what he’d decided to do and thinking about how Dean had inspired it. To anyone who looked at his inked wings, it wouldn’t _seem_ like they represented anything much, but Cas knew. And Dean knew. And that’s what mattered.

‘Hey,’ Dean said after a while, ‘get me a pen and a page, would you? Some of the printer paper’ll do.’

‘What for?’ Cas asked, already doing as Dean asked of him as Dean sat up straighter in bed.

‘You’ll see,’ said Dean. ‘And grab something to lean on, too.’

Cas grabbed the pen and the paper and handed them to Dean, and then grabbed a large book from Dean’s old room that was being stored in the storage space under their bed. Dean put the page on the book and poised the pen on the paper.

‘Now give me your hand,’ Dean requested.

Castiel knew at once which hand Dean wanted and held it out in front of him. Dean positioned it on the paper until he was satisfied with the position of it, and began drawing around it. For some reason, Castiel felt a phantom tickle as the pen ghosted around his fingers. When Dean was done tracing, he took Cas’s hand and placed it on his shoulder, where the handprint used to be.

‘I’ll get it there,’ he decided. ‘And we can both get inked up. Deal?’

Castiel confirmed that it was a deal non-verbally, leaning down to kiss him while keeping his hand where Dean had put it, Dean’s hand over it. Cas raised up slowly, still looking down at Dean and for a moment, wondering how they’d gotten to this point. There was once a time where every touch lasted seconds, and was usually followed by a heart-flutter and then a sinking feeling.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Dean said quietly.

‘It’s funny,’ Castiel commented suddenly, ‘how I once I removed my hand print when I healed you after Lucifer was first thrown back into the pit. And now, he’s free again, and you want the hand print back.’

‘Yeah, well,’ said Dean, holding onto Cas’s hand tightly, ‘I’ll need something for the times you’re not around, won’t I?’

Dean hadn’t expected his smile to drop into a frown so quickly. Castiel sat back down on the bed again, without removing his hand, and grabbed hold of Dean’s other one with his free one. He held onto it tight, squeezing, and making sure his eyes bore into Dean’s with an intensity he could almost physically feel.

‘I will _never_ not be around, Dean,’ Castiel swore. ‘I’ll always be here. With you.’

Dean shifted, letting the book and the page slide off of his lap, and pulled Cas closer.

‘I’m holding you to that,’ Dean said sternly. ‘Now,’ he continued, letting go of Cas and beginning to climb out of bed, ‘come shower with me. The water pressure in that motel _sucked_.’

‘I agree with you there,’ said Cas, getting to his feet and following Dean towards the door. ‘I never knew that I could be critical of the quality of different showers, but it seems like I’ve become just that.’

‘It’s fun to be a shower snob,’ Dean said in a sing-song voice, practically skipping towards the bathroom.

‘We’ll see,’ Castiel replied, rolling his eyes as they joined hands. ‘Although no matter what the water pressure, any shower can be made better with something pleasing to look at.’

‘Right back atcha,’ Dean agreed with a grin.


	25. Surprise (Sort-of)-Savior

Being in the bunker with no case to work, no one to entertain and not much to do wasn’t a wholly new thing. The new part was the part where there was no research to be done, no cases to search for, since they were still waiting on a case that was still open. Over breakfast, Dean told Sam a very revised version of the passage he’d found in a book, excluding God and Lucifer and replacing them with “someone good of a higher power” and “someone bad of a higher power.” Of course, Sam automatically jumped to Lucifer after hearing the “someone bad,” but without confirming or denying, Dean shrugged and noted that resurrection wasn’t exactly Lucifer’s usual protocol; more the opposite.

‘I guess you’re right,’ Sam said uneasily, ‘I just wish there was something more we could do to find out what this ritual is for _now_.’

‘Well, if we’re lucky, we’ll find out the night of the next resurrection,’ Castiel said hopefully.

‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ Sam said with a sigh, pushing his breakfast plate away from him. ‘We can talk about it more later. I’m going jogging.’

While Sam did just as he said he would, Cas did the dishes while Dean scoped out all the supplies they had and suggested that he and Cas go out and grab some groceries and other general stuff they’d run low on over the holidays.

‘Where to?’ Castiel asked.

‘There’s a grocery store less than a ten minute walk from here,’ Dean informed him. ‘Not great for the kind of crap we got over the holidays, but good for every day stuff.’

‘Let’s go,’ Castiel said with a nod, an unexplained ounce of excitement lighting up somewhere within him at the thought walking _to_ a shop with Dean rather than just walking _around_ one.

It was a surprise when Castiel discovered that Sam and Dean kept some reusable, durable shopping bags for their every-day shopping needs. How much passed him by before truly astounded him and each time he ended up feeling like an idiot for realizing that Sam and Dean had been here for years, and of course they’d ended up in some sort of routine for their shopping and probably their cooking and cleaning needs.

The weather outside was sharp at first, but as they walked, hands in pockets, it turned into a dull, normal cold that wasn’t freezing, but would have been more pleasant if it was warmer. Castiel very much enjoyed walking with Dean through the not-so-busy streets all the way to Main Street, where the store was located, despite it not being a particularly eventful or adventurous trip.

The things bought on this trip were very different to those bought on the many other shopping trips Cas had been on. Boring stuff, like milk and soap and toothpaste, and various food items including some that Cas thought seemed like odd things to be had alone, or even coupled with other things, but he didn’t question it as Dean almost-unconsciously ghosted his way around the store putting things into their shopping bags, occasionally asking Cas for an opinion and every so often reminding him that if he saw something he wanted, to grab it and toss it in one of the bags, which once they were done he emptied and refilled again at the checkout, making casual small talk with the cashier and smiling on the way out.

Dean and Cas carried two of the bags each as they headed back. Now that some time had passed the streets were slightly busier as the place seemed to wake up and get into the swing of the rest of the day. When they got back to the bunker Sam was back and had been wondering where they’d vanished to.

While Sam decided to go and busy himself with some reading on lore and rituals, Dean and Cas put away the things they’d bought and afterwards they headed back to their bedroom and Dean turned the TV on while Cas grabbed his computer, and they set about catching up on more Grey’s while Cas searched for images of angel wings he could but the anti-possession symbol between. Dean mostly focused on the television, but offered opinions when Cas asked for them on which wings looked best, and once Cas was done and printed out what he needed Dean pulled the computer onto his own lap, Cas leaning against his shoulder and watching him as he looked for tattoo parlors surrounding the area.

There were plenty to choose from that were within a short-ish driving distance. Dean showed Cas a list of businesses and Cas pointed out ones he liked the names of, and on his second pick they found a Facebook page for the parlor and scoped out the work they did. Dean liked it, Cas liked it, the place was only two hours away, so Dean called and asked if they were open and whether or not they could have a look at two tattoo designs in two hours or so; it was a yes, so they sought out Sam, told him where they were going and that they’d be back by the evening time, and hopped in the car.

‘Dean?’ Castiel asked, looking up from reading Mockingjay, half way through the drive.

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked, turning his head minimally towards him, sparing him a glance before he went back to keeping his eyes on the road.

‘Why did you decide to get my hand print tattooed back onto your shoulder?’ Castiel inquired, tilting his head curiously as he asked the question. ‘I know what you said this morning, but I’m wondering, out of all the things you could get – why my hand print?’

Dean took his time to consider his answer. He knew Cas was watching him, and he knew the question on the surface seemed easy, but he sensed there was something more to it. There always was with Cas in situations such as these – you had to peel back the layers to get to what he was really asking. The question was a simple one, but Dean knew he was really asking _why at all?_

‘Because it was the first thing you ever gave me,’ Dean said simply, shooting another glance at the ever-inquisitive looking former angel next to him. ‘And I want it back. If someone leaves their mark on you, it’s like … like a connection. But not a mark as in the Cain kind, a _personal_ one. I’d say a hand print is pretty personal, wouldn’t you?’

Castiel nodded seriously, looking downwards, seeing through his book. Then, as the idea trickled into his brain, he began to slowly, slyly smile as he looked back up, a glint of mischief in his eye that caught Dean’s attention.

‘I suppose, if you wanted the most personal kind of mark I could leave on you, I could always attempt to give you what I believe is called a hickey,’ Castiel said frankly, and as casual as ever, causing Dean’s head to snap towards him so fast he was surprised he didn’t hear Dean’s neck crack.

‘Fuck, Cas!’ Dean exclaimed in a way that made Cas’s eyebrows raise in pleasure at the tone of his voice. ‘Don’t talk like that when I’m driving. You’ll end up making me crash.’

Castiel smirked.

‘My apologies,’ he said sincerely. ‘I will attempt to contain such speech to the bedroom. Or at least remove a vehicle you’re operating from the places I can say such things.’

‘Yeah,’ said Dean, turning away from him and still looking moderately ruffled, ‘you do that.’

‘You’re so easily flustered,’ Castiel commented, with a hint of accompanying laughter.

‘I waited over seven years for you,’ Dean replied curtly. ‘You sexually frustrate me by _breathing_.’

Castiel stared at him, and very slowly and deliberately, inhaled long and deep, and then exhaled agonizingly slow.

‘Fuck off,’ Dean said, rolling his eyes at him.

‘I hope you realize that during the process of getting this tattoo, I will need to be unclothed from the waist up,’ Castiel reminded him teasingly.

‘Fuck _off_ ,’ Dean growled.

‘So if my breathing sexually frustrates you, goodness only knows what bare skin in a public place will do.’

‘Grandma,’ Dean grunted, staring determinedly away from Cas. ‘Donald Trump. Dolores Umbridge. President Snow. Darth Vader. Giant flying spiders. Sam’s bare ass.’

‘Did you just say _President Snow_?’

‘The dude’s a dick, yeah.’

‘So you’ve read –’

‘Shut up and don’t judge me,’ Dean demanded. ‘Jennifer Lawrence is hot. And you can’t watch the movies without reading the damn books first.’

Castiel paused, his eyebrows raised, speaking at a drawl.

‘… Interesting.’

‘Shut _up_ ,’ Dean groaned at him. ‘Keep your nerd-accusations to yourself, keep your judgement to yourself, and keep your fucking _sexual breathing_ to your damn _self_.’

‘Completely naked from the waist up. In public.’

‘One more word and you’re fucking walking.’

Castiel shut up.

They grabbed some food when they got to town, and went into the parlor straight afterwards. There were two men working there, both currently client-free, both of them more than willing to help out with the designs; they got them both up on some kind of computer software and with Dean’s helpful instruction, alterations were made to the hand print so that it looked more like a real hand print that could be burned into someone’s skin. There was color, depth, and it looked almost three dimensional. Meanwhile for Cas, his printed designs were resized and sliced together so that the anti-possession symbol was perfectly between the two wings.

They got their tattoos that day, at the same time, in parallel chairs. Dean’s was finished first, and after he was all set, his tattoo artist went over to join the other one in working on Cas on the other wing, so they wouldn’t be there as long. Dean and Castiel didn’t talk much throughout the process, both tattoo artists made general small talk, and it was all over in just over two and a half hours.

Dean and Castiel were both very happy with their finished results. Cas placed his hand just under the one tattooed on Dean, careful not to touch it, making Dean start smiling like an idiot while Cas moved on to looking in the mirror again and flexing his back muscles, making it look almost as if the wings were flapping. When they left they left satisfied and grateful, now to embark on another two hour journey home.

On the way home the duo grabbed some cream for their tattoos and when they got home the first thing they did was apply it, and then they sought out Sam, who was doing something on his computer, to let him know they were back and that Dean was heading into the kitchen to cook something for dinner. Sam frowned, having not expected a cooked meal (as they were rarely seen on their business days these days, unless ready meals counted) but told Dean to let him know when it was ready.

‘I will,’ Dean promised. ‘Come on, Cas. I’m gonna need a hand.’

Castiel nodded, and followed Dean to the kitchen. It was unfortunate that on this cooking adventure there was no music to listen to and get distracted by, but that was fine considering there was no time for messing around. As soon as they got into the kitchen, Dean handed Cas the cheese grater and a block of some above-average (neither cheddar nor mozzarella) cheese and told him to grate the whole thing, while Dean himself set up some pasta to boil in one pot, some milk in another, and then started doing something with more milk and some flower and a whisk in a bowl.

Cas’s jobs were relatively easy. Make sure the pasta doesn’t stick to the pot. Hand Dean one of the spinkley little jars of something or other, since he was closest to them. Being in such close proximity to Dean as Dean stirred the sauce he had created was a thrilling thing. Watching Dean’s expression as he stirred in another dash of this or that, and after each thing offered Cas some of the sauce on a spoon. It just kept getting better and better with each thing added, and Dean holding the spoon up to Cas’s mouth was an oddly intimate thing.

It was clear that Dean had made pasta with a cheese sauce, but not a boring, run of the mill cheese sauce, a rich, think and slightly tangy sauce, which surprised Cas as the three of them sat down in the kitchen with their plates once it was done. Dean sensed Cas’s air of surprise, and raised his eyebrows playfully at him, all the while looking proud of himself.

Castiel could add to his list that he’d learned about Dean since they got together, that Dean not only _could_ cook, he _enjoyed_ cooking. It seemed that beneath his hard shelled surface, Dean had a softer interior, which Cas deeply enjoyed exploring.

As was usual, Cas helped out with the dishes when they were done, excluding one dish which held leftovers and was placed in the fridge.  Once everything was dried and put away, they wandered back out in search of Sam, who they found in the long tabled room, scrolling through pages of news on his laptop.

‘Anything?’ Dean asked, taking a seat across from him.

‘Not yet,’ Sam replied. ‘But it usually happens later than this. And there’s nothing like this going on anywhere else in the country either – some people from other states are catching on to the resurrection articles though, and they’re calling it bull.’

‘Of course they are,’ Dean muttered. ‘Maybe that’s not a bad thing. I’m gonna go grab my computer and keep searching worldwide for biblical omens, it’s been a couple days since I last did …’

Dean got up again and headed off. Cas, who had yet to sit down, now took a seat beside Sam and watched as he scrolled, skimming, through something on some website picking out bits and pieces of the resurrection article and describing in detail exactly what was wrong with them.

‘It seems as though humans don’t want to believe in what is plainly in front of them,’ Castiel commented.

‘Yeah,’ said Sam, scrolling up through the page again with a sigh. ‘You’d think people would take the opposite approach. That they’d want to believe in whatever this is, whether they dub it government, aliens, conspiracy theory or … whatever. People can be pretty messed up sometimes.’

‘I need to stop referring to people as humans as if I’m not one of them,’ Castiel said quietly, more to himself than to Sam, as if reminding himself. ‘Because I am. One of them. For all intensive purposes.’

‘Old habits die hard,’ said Sam, with a small chuckle. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll learn. And even if you don’t, you’re still pretty angelic to us.’

Castiel smiled a small smile.

‘I appreciate that,’ he said sincerely. ‘But I should get used to the struggle that is being human. I’ve adopted the clothes and some of the mannerisms, all that’s left is to stop speaking like some kind of higher power.’

‘And you’ll need a last name,’ Sam pointed out.

‘That too, perhaps,’ Castiel mused. ‘Although I’ve never had much use for one. When dealing with people and cases we use mostly aliases, after all. What last name could I use for purposes that are not those ones?’

‘Winchester,’ said Dean upon his return. ‘You’ve been one of us for years. Might as well take the name while you’re at it.’

‘But wouldn’t that be odd?’ Castiel questioned. ‘You two are brothers. And it is obvious that I’m not a third brother.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Dean acknowledged, sitting back down next to Cas and lazily throwing an arm over his shoulders. ‘But you’re still a Winchester. You’ve got the attitude, you’ve died enough times to be one of us and you’ve saved our asses more than we’ve saved each others’. Take the name, man. You’ve earned it.’

Castiel smiled to himself and looked downwards at his lap, a blush staring to creep into his cheeks that he tried to fight off. Dean tightened his grip around him, pulling him close into his side before releasing him again with a small chuckle, making Cas go even quieter and more bashful as he sat between the proudly grinning Dean and the Sam that had a smile on that Dean would hate if Dean noticed it.

Castiel glanced back and forth between the two screens the brothers had open in front of them for a while. Their positioning was slightly odd; they rarely sat, all three of them, on the same side of the table but since Cas had sat down next to Sam then obviously they were going to sit three in a row since Dean clearly would sit next to Cas no matter where Cas was seated. Even before they’d been together, Dean and Cas had, if at all possible, often managed to get next to each other. Castiel remembered clearly one night with pizza and Sam and Dean and Charlie that Cas had dragged his chair around to the uncomfortable corner part of the table, just to be next to Dean. It had been more of an unconscious thing then. Now it was an extremely conscious thing that was practically a given, and any time Cas felt his arm brush against Dean’s or he felt their knees bump beneath the table, it was like a firework exploded within him where they touched. He wondered if that feeling would ever go away.

Dean continued to pull up nothing on the omens front, no matter what country he searched. There were no omens for the current time, nor any that had been and gone in the past month, meanwhile Sam wasn’t finding anything much either. There were very few genuine articles that seemed to believe what had happened in Alpena and they were all on small websites none of them had ever heard of and seemed to have very few views and little to no comments. It seemed like either no one cared about the goings on of small towns, or no one had actually picked up on any of these articles yet.

As the evening pressed on, they left the long tabled room. Dean completed his search of all the countries he could think of while Sam gave up on searching for things and instead just left open the page of news in Chester, refreshing it every so often. He also had a page up of weather patterns there, to see if there were any fluctuations in the atmosphere that screamed “demon” or “angel” at the time of the killing, yet there was no killing as they approached eight, and then nine, having moved into the living room Dean had doubted they’d actually end up using again. The television was on and Grey’s was playing and Dean’s laptop was closed next to him while he watched, Cas on his other side with his eyes also on the screen. Sam lazily refreshed and scrolled through various unimportant webpages out of boredom, half watching the show and half not.

It was almost as though they were back in the holidays again, with the TV, the lounging, and the lazy drinking of beers as they did just that. Cas ended up leaning against Dean with his arms around his midriff after a while, and Sam kept giving them that same soft smile he probably didn’t even realize he was giving them.

‘Shut up,’ Dean said, when he finally noticed, just catching Sam as he stopped looking at them and looked back down at his phone, where he was texting Aroura.

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Sam replied innocently.

‘Making stupid ass faces speaks louder than words,’ Dean muttered. ‘So shut up.’

Sam looked highly amused for several minutes after the brief exchange.

Somewhere closer to the midnight hour, Sam’s refresh led to the news of the fifth death, in the home of the victim who lived alone. His weather refresh showed that the temperature had suddenly dropped a significant amount and then steadied itself again, right around the time of the death. They couldn’t quite tell what that meant. After a brief discussion and acknowledgment of the fact that these deaths seemed to be right on track of the last town, the three headed to bed in spirits that weren’t all that high.

‘The drop in temperature could mean a number of things, many of them biblical,’ Castiel muttered as he and Dean walked side by side. ‘Although one of them points straight to Lucifer … everyone thinks heat surrounds him, when in fact it’s the opposite …’

‘But we know it’s not Lucifer doing the killing,’ Dean pointed out. ‘Unless he’s got himself a brand shiny new vessel and is calling himself Emerald, we know it’s not him.’

‘I know,’ Castiel noted, ‘it’s just an observation. It isn’t one that could help us in any way, not that there’s a way for us to _be_ helped with this, but an observation is an observation.’

‘That it is, alright,’ Dean agreed, repeating quietly, ‘that it is.’

Once in bed, Dean lay on his back, trying to avid friction between his new healing tattoo and the bed sheets. Castiel lay next to him, on his side facing him to avoid the same. They stayed silent for a while, like the seemed to do often nowadays after deaths or investigations. Cas rested his hand on Dean’s stomach, a finger tracing light circles on his skin as he sighed every so often, tired but not sleepy, his mind over working itself yet again.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Dean asked after a while of just lying there in deep silence and heavy thought.

‘I’m not sure,’ Castiel admitted. ‘Partly about how bad the families of those dying must feel. Partly about how happy they’ll feel upon the resurrection day. And partly of completely unrelated topics.’

‘Like?’

‘Like how Callie’s father is a dick for not accepting the fact that she and Arizona are dating.’

‘Oh yeah, that,’ Dean muttered. ‘There are a lot of people out there like that. You’d think, it’s twenty sixteen, no one cares where you stick what, but no. Still dicks like that guy out there.’

‘I feel sorry for her,’ Castiel said sadly.

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed. ‘Me too.’ He paused. ‘Anything else on your mind?’

‘No,’ Cas said, shrugging the one shoulder that wasn’t against the bed. ‘Or at least not on the surface. Who knows what’s lurking deep within that will only come to the surface when I wake up in the morning.’

‘You mean, who knows what deep dark thoughts are lurking inside of you just waiting to be acted on?’

‘Oh, sure,’ Cas joked. ‘Darkest of the dark thoughts.’

‘Such as?’

‘Drawing on you while you sleep?’ Cas suggested. ‘I don’t know. Dark thoughts are not in my nature.’

‘Aw, aren’t you an innocent one,’ Dean said in a false-mocking voice, one arm around Cas and his hand starting to stroke up and down his back.

‘I’m far from innocent,’ Castiel said warning, some darkness starting to creep into his tone now. ‘I still haven’t forgotten what you said about me breathing. I could breath _very heavily_ at any point. See how innocent I am then.’

Dean rolled his eyes with a breathy laugh that only lasted as second and was more like a more-forceful-than-usual yet lazy exhalation.

‘Well now you’re practically a run of the mill whore,’ Dean commentated sarcastically. ‘Teasing me with heavy breathing when I know you’re too tired after all these late nights to do anything more than that. Don’t talk if you’re not going to deliver, Cas. It’s just plain mean.’

‘My apologies,’ Castiel said sincerely. ‘Perhaps I should wait until tomorrow morning’s shower to begin breathing heavily. Is that alright with you?’

‘Perfectly fine, yeah,’ said Dean. He closed his eyes comfortably, continuing his stroking of Cas’s lower back, the motion of Cas’s finger on his skin lulling him into a sort of trance. ‘But for now I’m tired. So goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ Castiel replied.

Cas stayed still for a minute or two after they’d said goodnight, then rolled onto his other side, pressing up against Dean’s side and grabbing one of his many pillows to wrap his arms around. Moments later, Cas felt something between his shoulder blades, between the wings and over his anti-possession tattoo, like a ghost of a kiss or a kiss from the wind, and then he felt Dean settle in and get comfortable again just behind him. Despite not being very sleepy, it was easy to let his overall tiredness take over, the sound of Dean’s breathing and the phantom feeling of the ghost kiss making him feel secure.

Today was another free day, and they had even less to do today than they had to do yesterday. As promised last night, their shower time was filled with more sex than showering. Dean’s the top of back was against the wall, his legs wrapped around Cas’s hips, Cas pounding into him at an angle, and after he came he  used one hand to unlock Dean’s legs from around him and then let go of Dean, leaving Dean in a standing position and getting onto his knees to suck Dean off.

By the time they got out a coldness was creeping onto the water, and by the time they stopped fooling around in the bathroom and emerged into the kitchen for breakfast, Sam had already been and gone on his morning jog. They avoided telling him about the dwindling supply of hot water left in the bunker, despite knowing that the shower Sam usually used and the shower they used both used the same supply of said water. Feigning looks of surprise and innocence was how they got out of explaining that one.

After last night’s weather discovery, Dean had had a thought, so first thing after breakfast he went straight to Google to search for temperature fluctuations on the nights all the other people had died in both towns just to confirm that it hadn’t been a one-off freaky coincidence. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it, nor was Cas, nor was Sam when he told him.

Besides that one little thing, there really wasn’t much to be done by way of this case or any other. Sam did check for the appearance of new word on the resurrections of Alpena a few times, but found nothing. Dean cleaned a few of their weapons that hadn’t been cleaned in a while and topped up supplies in the trunk of the Impala, which got low every once in a while after a few hunts. Then, later, he decided to wash the Impala which was something he did whenever there was nothing to do. He trusted Cas enough to help him washing the windows and the front and back windshield, and when he was convinced that Cas had left a streak after his washing of one of the windows the two of them got into a miniature argument which resulted not only in the re-soaking of said window, but the soaking of themselves, and a bucket in need of refilling. When they trudged inside, Sam didn’t even bother asking why they were soaked and dripping. He could pretty much guess what had happened.

‘I can’t leave you two alone for five minutes,’ he muttered under his breath as they passed him soggily.

Once they’d dried off and changed after the car-washing incident, they hopped onto their bed and hit up the Netflix. Castiel grabbed his laptop for a while and once he was done, he requested that Dean watch the Hunger Games movies with him once he was done reading the books.

‘Well I’ve seen them once, so I guess I can watch them again,’ Dean shrugged indifferently. ‘I haven’t even seen the last one yet. Just tell me when.’

‘I’ll make sure to,’ Castiel promised, now done with his laptop, which he closed and put next him, finally able to get more comfortable as they continued their watching of Grey’s Anatomy. As he laid his head on his chest, it was hilarious to hear how Dean’s heart rate increased _just slightly_ whenever Doctor Sheppard was on screen.

Al in all, it was a dull day once they’d tired out all the things they could do. The three of them all gathered in the living room again for a while and flicked through channels endlessly without watching anything, and they had leftovers from last night for dinner too. It wasn’t really the fact that they had no case to work that bothered them, it was the waiting, and knowing that they were pretty much just waiting for people to die.

There really was no reason to wait up that night for the final death, but they did, and it happened, and like all the other deaths there was a drop in temperature just as it happened followed by a raise back up to normal level as if nothing had happened in the first place, and they all went to bed with the knowledge that they weren’t doing anything to stop the people dying weighing heavily on them.

‘But there’s nothing we _can_ do,’ Dean reminded Cas as Cas perched over him, knees pressed into his sides, rocking gently back and forth over his crotch automatically, mostly without meaning to. ‘You know we need to just wait this one out, man. Now either stop doing what you’re doing all together, or fucking fuck me already. Either way, you’ve gotta stop worrying about this stupid case.’

‘Fine,’ Castiel muttered, tugging down his pajama bottoms frustrated and then grabbing the waistband of Dean’s. ‘But I can’t help it if I feel sorry for the families of the people that are dying.’

‘I know, I know,’ Dean consoled. ‘So come on. Distract yourself. Use me as a distraction.’

Castiel rolled his eyes.

‘You’re a terrible person. I hope you realize this.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Now come on. Get on with it already.’

‘Legs in the air,’ Castiel said boredly. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Dean obliged, and Cas’s bored expression turned into a wicked grin as he forgot all about the case they were working for a while.

The day leading up to the resurrections was the slowest day yet. They decided it best to head back to Chester and check into a motel so they could be prepared all day for anything that might happen in the lead up to the resurrections which were imminent.

The day in town was just as boring as the empty days in the bunker had been. There was nothing much they could do so mostly they just watched from various places around town. It seemed like a normal day in a small town, no suspicious activities going on anywhere, no suspicious looking people lurking on any corners. They swung by the nearest graveyard in the afternoon and saw two fresh graves, clearly holding the bodies of two of the six, but they looked intact and undisturbed, and the graveyard was mostly empty apart from one old man sitting at a grave several rows away from the fresh ones.

After more driving around, swinging past the bar, past the houses of the victims and even past the nearest morgue, evening had settled in and they picked up some food to have in the car while they went back to the graveyard, after they’d made a quick trip to the motel they’d stayed in the night before to pick up some stuff for their scope out for when the boredom got too much of them.

And then it was time to wait, just like they’d waited in the bar, or more like in the parking lot of the bar, for something to happen. They knew these things usually happened late at night, but then again they could never know for sure.

On their wait, Cas finished Mockingjay and went quiet for a while. Sam was pretty quiet too, for the most part, going between binoculars and his phone, occasionally smiling or laughing softly. They could pretty much guess who he was talking to. Throughout their wait, Dean barely talked or even moved at all, keeping eyes set so hard on the graves that he was barely blinking.

It was as the clock ticked close to midnight that things started to happen, as usual. A dark figure appeared, out of nowhere, in grave yard and Dean nudged both Sam (staring at his phone screen) and Cas (completely blanked out, eyes staring but seeing nothing) and nodded towards the figure who was walking up and down between the graves.

‘Quietly,’ Dean told them, placing a finger to his lips as he slowly opened his car door and climbed out.

They got their things out of the trunk while the figure was still seemingly contemplating what to do. The got a gun each, different bullets in each, and two of them had blades. Cas had his angel blade and Sam manned the demon one as they headed into the grave yard, just as a low light started to emit from around one of the graves and they saw the light suddenly flash bright and then disappear. The dark figure disappeared as they approached, too, and as they got closer they could see it had jumped into the grave. It was far too tall to be either Ruby or Emerald, as far as they could remember.

When they reached the edge of the grave they saw the figure inside, a hand on the lid of the coffin, and then whoever it was raised their other hand and suddenly all three of them were thrown backwards and landed on their backs on the grass.

‘What the –’ Dean started.

There was another flash, and then everything went black.

When the light crept in, they each awoke to find themselves in bed, in their motels, with no memory of anything after being thrown. The town was buzzing with resurrection news, and someone from Abiquiu, New Mexico, eleven hours away, was dead. The night before, on the night of the sixth death, someone had died too. They spent hours that morning trying to figure out what had happened, trying to remember who the figure was if they’d even seen at all, but it was if they had had their memories wiped of the entire night. All they knew was that no one in town could shut up about what had happened, it was in their local paper and when they visited the graves and the morgue, the handprints were there, just like the last town.

There was a lengthy discussion about whether it was even worth visiting Abiquiu. They knew they deal, the six deaths and the resurrections, but on the other, there was always a chance that something, even a tiny seemingly insignificant detail, was different. And since they were all well-rested after whatever the fuck had happened the previous night, they decided it couldn’t hurt to go the eleven hours to scope the place out. Sam and Dean had gone farther for less on many occasions.

Los Caminos Bar was the only bar in the small town, and that was where the first death had taken place. Typical. And the only place that didn’t disgust them to stay in was Abiquiu Inn, which wasn’t too far from the bar, barely five minutes driving distance away, probably less, but they had to account for streets cluttered with police cars and such after deaths.

They arrived late at night, after spending most of the day driving, and went straight to their rooms and to bed soon after to be prepare for the simple, now-routine investigations they’d get into in the morning, which was the tenth of January. It was a shock when they realized just how much time had passed, the days (apart from the slow ones) just blurring into each other, flying by as the work went on and on, no new cases, nothing coming out of this one. And they knew there were four more deaths and six resurrections, therefore another five days, to come out of this, either to be spent in Abiquiu re-trying their attempts from Chester or to be spent aimlessly wandering the bunker, morbidly awaiting each night’s death.  

The bar staff and the customers at the bar who had witnessed the, for a change, _woman_ , walk into the bar only later to be joined by two more feminine women than herself all had the same thing to say. She went into the bathroom with the dark haired one, the white haired one lingered by the door of the bar until after the other two had gone into the bathroom and then left, the woman, often seen with a group of five men (one of which was dead) never emerging from the bathroom, only to be discovered dead later with no trace of her dark haired companion.

Something they had yet to do, which they decided to do today, was actually _fully_ inspect the dead body. They visited the morgue to do just that, and once alone, they pulled out the drawer completely and uncovered the victim. She was ghastly pale, very broad and had that sort of Ellen DeGeneres haircut. It seemed like Ruby (who they still insisted to Sam was not Ruby) and Emerald were only targeting those they could be _completely sure_ were attracted to women.

‘But that’s an offensive stereotype,’ Castiel said approvingly. ‘There was as much a chance as any that this woman would have been married with a husband and children.’

‘She _was_ married,’ said Sam. ‘It said in the report she had a wife.’

‘Still,’ Castiel insisted. ‘Ruby and Emerald should know better than to judge on appearance alone. For example, Ted Knight wasn’t attracted to women, despite him looking stereotypically straight.’

‘Yeah, well, demons can control anyone if they’re powerful enough,’ Dean shrugged, snooping around the body and checking skin for any marks that could be clues. Clues for what, none of them knew. ‘So even if she was the straightest straight girl to ever straight, a powerful enough demon could have her doing whatever. It’s pretty fucked up.’

‘I’ll say,’ Sam agreed, muttering uncomfortably.

‘I hate demons,’ Castiel sighed in annoyance. ‘They have no respect for anyone.’

‘ _That’s_ why you hate demons?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at Cas.

‘Of course not,’ Castiel snipped. ‘But it’s one of the reasons that I would hate them if they weren’t completely evil. They’re disrespectful creatures who abuse anyone who won’t do what they want. Most of the scenarios demons get into with people, even when not killing them, are non-consensual unless they truly trick a person into trusting them, or even falling for them. I _hate_ demons.’

‘Trust me, we all do,’ said Sam, placing a hand on Cas’s shoulder as Cas grew stiff with loathing of the creatures he talked about. ‘No one knows their ways better than we do.’

‘There’s nothing on this body,’ Dean said, interrupting what could have turned into reminiscing about the times they’d been misled by the evil black-eyed dick-bags before. ‘No marks that could show us anything. No bruises, no cuts, nothing apart from the snapped neck. I don’t think it’s going to help.’

‘Then we should get out of here,’ Sam decided, taking a step back. ‘Let the body get … fixed up. For her wife, and for the funeral you know …’

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed. He covered the body back over, and pushed the drawer back into place. ‘We can’t be too down about this. She’ll be alive and kickin’ again in a couple days.’

‘Seems like it,’ Sam said darkly.

Once their scope out of the body was complete and after a quick once over of the other body just to be sure both bodies were clean, they went to talk to the wives of the two dead who both could attest that they were a part of a group that went out once a week for several weeks, calling it a book club. It most definitely was _not_ a book club, but apparently there was a book that was brought sometimes. They couldn’t find the book, but Sam, Dean and Cas could be sure that it was a demonic one.

Their plan tonight was different to their last plans. Tonight, since the deaths had happened at the bar, that’s where they would go. One person inside, one person in the car, one going in shifts between the two. It seemed like the location of the killings in the last town had only been changed up once those doing the killings had realized that they were being watched for. But now, to be on the safe side, someone on the inside and the outside would work best.

They couldn’t do much in the lead up to that night but sit around. Research already too-well researched things. Sam checked out some stuff on the resurrections in Chester, but like in Alpena, there were still not many who had caught on. There was someone apparently tweeting about how it was all a conspiracy theory and one of the person’s followers was replying to almost everything, declaring it was aliens and not a conspiracy, but neither one of the two had over thirty followers.

When it came time to execute their surveillance plan, Castiel acted as the one to flit back and forth between the two brothers, rushing in and out so much it was like he was a pregnant woman and the bar was a bathroom, or at least that’s what Sam compared it to. Dean’s comparison was dirtier and involved Cas rolling his eyes harshly at him, making Dean waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

‘Get back to your stake out,’ Castiel said firmly. ‘And stop thinking about dicks.’

‘Not dicks, Cas,’ Dean said in a voice that made it sound like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, ‘just yours.’

‘Well stop it,’ Castiel commanded. ‘Focus. Or I’ll go back inside to Sam.’

‘I’m shutting up,’ Dean promised. ‘Total professionalism from now on. I swear.’

Castiel didn’t believe it, but said nothing as he continued to stare out, eyes sweeping the parking lot, darting over to the door, searching out familiarity in a sea of those who went in and out. It wasn’t busy, but it was dark, and for all either of them knew the people they were looking for could be wearing hoods, or even cloaks or disguises, or _anything_.

As it was on all the other nights, it wasn’t until close to midnight that anything happened. Cas was with Sam; he was watching a shifty looking man Sam had pointed out earlier, while Sam kept his eyes on the entrance. Sam got to his feet as soon as they walked in, recognizing them instantly, and walked across the bar to the darkest corner with his head down and his shoulders hunched. Castiel was momentarily confused by Sam’s sudden movement, until he caught sight of who had come in and turned promptly to follow Sam, hoping Sam wasn’t recognizable from his height and glad that he himself wasn’t wearing the trench coat that screamed an amber alert for “THAT ANGEL WHO PULLED DEAN OUT OF HELL, OVER HERE, SPYING ON YOUR DEMONIC ANTICS!”

Castiel, as he texted Dean while Sam kept his head down, found himself wishing he still had enough of his grace left to truly see people’s souls. That was one of the last things connecting him to his celestial self, the fact that, if he looked hard enough and if he already knew the person, he could still catch the faintest glimmer of the soul of a person. Like with people’s souls, he was still able to see the true faces of demons, but only half see them like he was losing his vision. But he now knew for sure that this demon was Ruby, resurrected along with her former host body for her to dwell in. Even in his half-blinded state he recognized the face of the demon who had, all those years ago, corrupted Sam Winchester.

But as for her friend, Emerald as she went by … nothing. And if he really searched, deeply searched her as he glanced up from his phone screen as she dwindled by the doors, all he could see was a vast, empty blackness. Either a broken soul, or no soul at all. Or maybe the last of his grace was just too weak to see anything but the blackness.

Dean entered with his head down as Sam watched Ruby talking to a nervous man who was growing more confident by the second, the very man he’d pointed out to Cas earlier as he wondered if that was the next victim. He sat across from Cas and bent his head low, unable to see anything going on behind him, and muttered, ‘what does she look like? I didn’t see.’

Cas knew that Dean knew what Ruby looked like. He understand that Dean meant the other one, the one they didn’t know, the one with the silvery white hair, the pale skin and the lips that were shockingly coated with black, a black almost as black as the blackness that Cas could see within her. Her dress was as white as her hair, and her eyes, though dark like her lips, screamed purity. Her face, as far as he could see was perfectly symmetrical with perfect bone structure, slim and small. Her cheekbones were sharp, and her nose one of those tiny, button noses. She looked peaceful, her resting face neutral, but inviting.

She _did_ look like an angel.

‘A stereotypical angel.’

Not a real angel. There was no face of an angel behind the face of pure beauty with the black eyes, the black lips, the black hole. There were no wings lurking on her shoulders, no grace coursing through her veins.

But she looked like an angel.

‘So she’s hot?’ Dean asked.

‘She’s beautiful,’ Castiel stated.

And then he was forced to tear his eyes away. He could have sworn he saw hers flit over him. He ducked his head down, even though he knew there was no way she could recognize him, be it by his vessel or his true face … although he doubted he had a true face any more. The face of his vessel _was_ his true face, now he thought about it … not a bad face, he had to admit.

‘She’s leaving,’ Sam said suddenly.

‘No, she’s still there,’ said Cas, not looking at the beauty that was Emerald, but still able to see the sheer glow that she was emitting, even when he was directly looking at it.

‘No, the other one,’ said Sam. ‘She just got up. She’s _leaving_. And the man is staying behind.’

Dean’s head snapped around so fast he could have ended up as the next victim or sacrifice or whatever this was. Luckily, he just cricked his neck painfully and clapped a hand to it as he set his eyes on Ruby’s back as she walked away, then looked for the table Sam had been watching. The man was, indeed, staying behind. He had just taken a sip of his drink, which seemed to be almost full.

‘I’m following them,’ Dean decided, getting to his feet and starting in long strides across the bar, keeping his head down so they didn’t notice his face.

‘I’ll come too,’ said Sam, rising. He turned to Cas. ‘Watch the guy. See where he goes. We’ll be right back.’

Castiel nodded and stayed in his seat, watching Sam and Dean walk away. Ruby and the black hole had gotten to the door before the brothers and left, but they weren’t that far behind – or so it seemed like from inside the bar. But outside the bar it was a whole other story, where they suddenly found themselves in the deserted parking lot. Neither woman they’d followed seemed to be anywhere in sight, like they’d just vanished into thin air … which, in retrospect, they most likely had.

‘Should we look around?’ Dean asked.

Sam shrugged.

‘It couldn’t hurt.’

There wasn’t much looking to be done. The parking lot hadn’t changed much since Dean had crossed it less than five minutes ago – except now there was another car there, barely visible in the dark, and a small, seemingly dark haired figure was standing by it with arms full of something or other, struggling with something or other else.

‘Shoot,’ they heard the figure mutter, tugging at a long coat with one hand while barely managing to hold onto her, most likely her, things with the other.

Sam rushed forward just as the figure was about to drop her load of things which looked, up close, like a book, some note pads and a laptop, and caught them from her, allowing her to unlock her car and free her coat from the closed door. The lights of her car flashed as she locked it again, and this time it was _Sam_ who nearly dropped all that he was holding.

‘Aroura?’

It was Dean’s turn to be so shocked that he would have dropped whatever he was holding had he been holding anything.

‘ _Aroura?_ ’ he repeated after his brother.

‘Sam?’ the briefly illumined figure asked, now again shrouded by darkness, with a most definitely unmistakable voice. ‘Dean? Is that you?’

‘It’s me,’ said Sam, sounding positively delighted and like he’d completely forgotten what they’d come out to do. ‘ _This_ is your murder-charity case? You’re helping the families of the people murdered _here_?’

‘Yeah, I’m helping organize a fund raiser for a funeral with hopefully enough money left over to hold over the family until the dead guy’s wife can get a job,’ Aroura said, sounding like she was grinning though they clearly couldn’t see her. ‘ _This_ is what you’re reporting?’

‘Weird murder patterns,’ said Sam, ‘always worth reporting.’

As Sam and Aroura began talking quietly together with annoying giggles occasionally ringing loud and shrill through the night, it was obvious Sam was on a whole other planet and Dean stared on in disbelief, considering just turning around and going back into the bar, but when he did turn around he saw Cas already walking towards him, plus another man going off in another direction towards a car.

‘He left,’ Castiel announced, meeting Dean half way. ‘He just finished his beer and left. Look, there he is. Driving away.’

‘So what?’ Dean asked him, puzzled. ‘There’s no murder tonight? They quit the ritual or something?’

‘Dean …’ Castiel said slowly, gravely, making sure Dean knew that the news coming wasn’t good news at all, ‘I think she saw me. The one people say looks like an angel. Emerald. I think she saw me.’

‘So?’ Dean asked. ‘She doesn’t know you and you were all the way across the bar.’

‘But as soon as she saw me, or moments after that at least, she and Ruby left.’

‘Fuck,’ Dean groaned. ‘ _Fuck_. So they’re taking it somewhere else tonight …’

‘Most likely,’ Castiel agreed, and then he heard one of the shrill giggles and frowned at the shapes in the dark a little away across the parking lot. ‘What’s going on?’

‘The Savior returns,’ Dean muttered darkly, looking over at the quietly talking pair with a height difference of a mile which made how Sam was hunching his shoulders and looking down look slightly painful. ‘Or a part of her at least.’

‘Aroura?’ Cas asked, raising his eyebrows in astonishment.

‘Bingo,’ said Dean. ‘She says she’s here for some kind of fund raising thing. Sounds about right if that’s code for being here to figure out what the fuck is going on with all these deaths and resurrections.’

‘So do you think she’s here to help God or stop Lucifer?’ Castiel wondered aloud, still looking somewhat bewildered by her presence.

‘Hard to say,’ Dean mumbled. ‘It’s not even the resurrection night.’

‘But isn’t the Aroura part of The Savior’s entire being a hunter?’

‘True … took her long enough to catch on to the fact that there’s a case here if that’s the case …’

Dean and Castiel watched the pair some more without speaking, waiting for them to come back to reality. Seconds later, the sound of sirens interrupted the night, and reality seemed to whip both Sam and Aroura in the ass.

‘Someone else is dead,’ Sam stated at normal volume, so his voice carried to where Dean and Cas were half way across the parking lot as they too came to the same conclusion. ‘I’m sorry – I have to get to this, gotta report – you know where I’m staying –’

Sam handed Aroura back her things, which he was still holding, and said his goodbye while heading for the Impala, Dean and Castiel following. As they walked, they both paid Aroura a glance and saw her wave. They nodded at her in unison and followed Sam to the car which they climbed into to drive off to the scene to make sure it was just like all the others, which it turned out to be.

‘Whoever these two are, they’re crafty,’ Dean said in the car on the way back to the inn they were staying at after talking to the latest victim’s son, who had heard his father scream and had run in to find him dead with no sign of an attacker. ‘They try to make us think they’re done and then they just … do it.’

‘They know that we’re not just on to them, but know exactly who they are and what it is that they do at night,’ Castiel stated. ‘Yet they still go on with the plan.’

‘Luckily that guy’s son gave us the names of the others he goes out with,’ Dean said with some optimism. ‘So we can keep an eye on them.’

‘Stake out their house tomorrow night?’ Sam suggested.

‘Exactly,’ Dean said surely. ‘And all this staking out is making me _want_ a damn steak. I wish this crap would just end already …’

There was nothing more to be said about it when they got back to the inn so they parted for their rooms with wishes of a good night.

‘Not that he needs us to wish it to him,’ Dean muttered as he and Cas headed for their room down the hall from Sam’s. ‘If Aroura’s staying here it’s practically guaranteed.’

‘If I didn’t know that she was on our side I’d find it suspicious that she’s here,’ Castiel commented as they went through the door and Dean shut it behind them, kicking off his shoes as he did so. ‘And that she showed up at the bar we were at. What was she doing?’

‘About to go stake the place out too?’

‘Maybe,’ said Cas with a particle of a sigh, ‘but she must know whether this ritual is for God or for Lucifer, right? And who’s doing it?’

‘Maybe not,’ said Dean, undressing while Cas remained by the door looking troubled and leaning back against the door with his arms folded across his chest. ‘She could be here to find out who it is so she can deduce whether it’s a God thing or a Lucifer thing. God might not have told her if he’s the one doing the resurrecting. He’s probably busy trying to find where Michael and Gabriel stashed Amara.’

‘That  makes sense,’ Castiel agreed, walking away from the door but keeping his arms folded. ‘And if it’s Lucifer, then The Holy One can be here to stop him on the night of the resurrections, afterwards of course, before he starts to do … anything.’

‘Exactly,’ Dean nodded as Castiel came to a standstill by the end of the bed, arms folded, still looking mildly lost in thought. ‘Now come on. It’s late. And we don’t know how thick these walls are so we’ll want to get to sleep while we still can if it turns out Aroura’s staying here and comes back any time soon …’

Castiel made a face that displayed his distaste at the scenario he had just imagined and dropped his arms as he did, which gave Dean the opportunity to grab the bottom of his sweater and pull it up over his head and then drop his arms to place them on Cas’s waist tenderly, rubbing some small circles with his thumbs.

‘I will no longer think about what Aroura is doing here,’ Castiel promised.

Dean grinned at him and dropped his hands to let Cas finish undressing and made his way over to the bed to climb in.

‘Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,’ he agreed. ‘No come on and get in here. This bed is cold as fuck.’

Castiel threw him a soft smile as he shed the rest of his clothing and rooted out pajama pants before joining him and feeling the cool sheets that Dean had mentioned. Cas opened his arms and allowed Dean to slip into them before closing them as they slid downwards into a more comfortable position. Dean rested his head against Cas’s chest.

‘Better,’ he commented.

‘I thought you’d think so,’ Castiel replied fondly.

‘Maybe things will make more sense in the morning,’ Dean decided hopefully, shutting his eyes and getting ready to let his suppressed tiredness take over.

‘Perhaps,’ said Castiel with a slight nod, closing his eyes too. ‘Goodnight, Dean.’

‘Night Cas,’ Dean replied quietly. ‘Sweet non-dreams …’


	26. It's That Simple, Part One

It was a surprise to discover that when morning rolled around that Aroura wouldn’t be breakfasting with them. Apparently she had visited Sam last night but was busy all day and had vanished before sunrise, so it would just be the three of them as normal, trying to find something to fill their time with while they waited to stake out the house of the man who would die tonight.

‘We need to figure out what we’re looking for,’ Sam said several times over breakfast in the morning.

‘We need to figure out what part the woman in white plays in this,’ Dean told him the last time. ‘She has to do more than just stand there, right?’

‘It’d help if we could figure out who she is, too,’ Sam added, ‘and why the other one looks exactly like Ruby. And how she seemed to know me the first time I saw her …’

They went around in circles for a while and only stopped when they finished up breakfast and decided to wander, on foot, around the area for a while on the lookout for anything weird. They didn’t know what they were looking for; maybe Ruby or Emerald would be out on the streets somewhere, but it was evident that they weren’t and all they could do was go back to the inn for a while and linger, mostly doing pointless actives that didn’t lead up to much. Sam looked on some websites and tried to dig up something on “Emerald” while Dean slyly inquired about Aroura’s last name, which he had only ever heard once, and then took out his laptop and googled her. Castiel, like the night before with the bar and the car, went back and forth between both of them and saw how Sam seemed unable to find anything whereas what Dean found was nothing suspicious and relatively unsatisfying to find.

The only thing to be found was a very un-private Facebook page with pictures of Aroura and a lot of people doing good things. Everyone seemed to adore her and in many pictures she was surrounded by the poor, or the disabled, or the extremely old. There were a lot of pictures with animals, and a lot with children, and all of the comments were positive.

Dean didn’t know what he expected to find or why he was suspicious in the first place. He’d accepted Aroura as a good, normal person whom he liked as a person in general, but whenever she wasn’t around something in him just … dialed up the suspicion for no real reason.

Sam came up with nothing either as the day went on, and the three of them restlessly did this and that online and off, leaving the inn to do who-knew-what and then returning not having done anything at all. It was even worse here than it was in the bunker doing nothing. They took a lot of walks, either all three of them together or split up depending on the boredom level, and watched some Netflix too.

When late evening rolled around, to kill their boredom Dean suggested they start tailing the remaining guys, any of whom could die tonight. There were three of them so they could take one each and they could see if they were home and, if not, ask around to see if anyone knew them or why they were. It was still unsatisfying to be trailing them considering nothing was happening, and being alone made it dull work.

Around nine, they figured out it was Sam’s guy that was dying tonight. The guy made a phone call to confirm his wife would be home in the morning and that she had a good night staying with her sister, followed by a phone call to confirm arrangements for someone who he didn’t name to come over,  finished what he was buying in the store and left. Sam was lucky that he had been walking on foot all night, giving him the opportunity to walk several steps behind the guy and call both Dean and Cas to let them know who it was that was dead meat.

Sam was leaning against a tree close by the guy’s house, with the house within his eye sight, when the Impala pulled up alongside him, Dean having picked up Cas from watching his guy’s place on the way. Sam climbed into the back seat and in silence the three of them began to stare at the house.

From the outside the house looked like just that. A house. There were lights on that they could see from the outside, but that was the only thing that indicated the man was in there for hours. They couldn’t see through the windows as there were curtains closed in front of them, the glow of the lights they saw peeking out through the material without giving anything away, and no one went in or out. Their watch time was uneventful, until a sudden chill fell over them when it was close to midnight.

‘Anything about that feel like a death sentence to you?’ Dean muttered to Sam and Cas, who made their agreement known with nods and mumbled comments.

‘They should be here any minute,’ said Sam, taking his eyes away from the house and looking at the surrounding area for figures looming in the darkness. ‘Any minute …’

A minute passed. And two. And three. And the temperature went back to normal. No one went into the house, and no one came out. At ten after midnight, Castiel suddenly stated, ‘they’re demons.’

‘What?’ Dean asked, turning his head to look at him.

‘Demons,’ Cas repeated. ‘Or at least one of them is. And demons and other beings that can teleport in and out of places don’t need to use the front door.’

Dean could have shoved his head through the window as the realization hit him. Sam groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. Castiel looked from the two idiotic brothers back to the house.

‘He’s probably dead,’ Dean groaned. ‘They’ve been and gone and we didn’t even notice. We’re fucking _idiots_.’

‘We have to go in,’ Sam decided at once, sitting up straighter with one hand already on the door handle.

‘And do what?’ Dean asked. ‘Call the cops? Report the dead guy? Run away before they can ask why we broke into this guy’s house?’

‘We could tell the cops we’re feds,’ Sam explained, ‘and that we had a suspicion that this guy, or one of the other two, would be dying tonight. And maybe then we can get protection for the other two, get them to cancel their plans until it’s all over …’

‘And if somehow the other two don’t get killed?’ Dean asked. ‘There’s still four dead and they won’t get resurrected if we mess up the ritual.’

‘So you’re saying we let two more innocent men die?’

‘ _No_ that’s not what I’m saying, but –’

‘We don’t know for sure the resurrections still won’t go on as normal even if the next two men don’t die,’ Castiel interrupted them. ‘And it’s unfair to let that man’s wife come home to find him dead in their house. I agree with Sam.’

‘Okay, fine,’ Dean said uneasily. He got out of the car and closed the door behind him, waiting for the others to follow. While he did so, he retrieved the lock picking kit from the trunk and put it in his pocket and the three of them headed to the house across the street in silence.

Dean was the one to pick the lock on the door although he didn’t completely approve of what they were doing. Once in the house they shut the door behind them and crept in. They checked the living room first, which was a good place to check; the body was on the floor in a pool of red, glass around his head. There was another glass of wine on the coffee table. Apparently this guy had really prepared to cheat on his wife with a demon.

They went with the whole thing of calling the cops and telling them they were feds and had been tracking the guy plus to others all night. They said the killer must have used a back entrance or back window to get in and out of the house and the cops agreed with them and also agreed it best to contact the other two men come morning and arrange something with them to have them protected by officers until the killer was caught. Of course, Sam, Dean and Cas offered to do it and the cops were delighted and told them how grateful it was. The “agents” brushed it off, saying it was no trouble at all, and they wanted this killer caught as soon as possible so, if the killer decided to show up, they wanted to be with the men the killer would come for.

In the morning, they got in contact with and met both men, who weren’t exactly grateful when they found out that they’d be spending the night with three federal agents and insisted they were safe, that nothing bad was going to happen and that the agents would be wasting their night, but in the end they both grudgingly agreed to the protection.

‘And hey, it might even be fun,’ Dean told them both, not in a way that suggested he thought so, but more in a way that suggested he was pissed off at their objections. ‘We’ll take you out for drinks. On us. It’s what you were going to do anyway, right?’

It was the going out thing that most likely made them agree. The fivesome would meet up that evening, and there would be no going home until they were sure the midnight hour had passed, and hopefully by that point Sam, Dean and Cas would have gotten information out of the two men that was sufficient enough to tell them more about the unknown angelic looking possible demon.

This day was as dull as the last and the prospect of possibly finding more answers tonight didn’t help liven things up. They knew that of course tonight’s murder attempt – men protected or not – wouldn’t be cancelled if they were really determined to continue with this ritual, but didn’t know exactly what they wanted from it.  A confrontation? A struggle? A fight? It was hard to say.

Half way through the day, Sam found out that Aroura would be free that night and Dean and Cas suggested he leave the watching of the two men to them, while he and Aroura did their own thing, since Sam was hinting that he wished he could take her along too so they could grab some drinks.

‘No, guys, really, it’s fine,’ Sam insisted.

‘Dude, spend time with your … girlfriend,’ Dean told him seriously, the word still unusual for him, ‘and if you really want to keep an eye on things, take her to the bar. Just don’t sit with us so she wont find out anything.’

Sam had, half-reluctantly, agreed.

But that night Sam seemed pretty okay with the situation, sitting on the other side of the bar and laughing with Aroura seemingly careless, while Dean and Cas were stuck with two men who looked as though they’d rather not be there.

‘You’d think they’d be a little more grateful for the fact that we’re here to try and stopped them being murdered,’ Dean muttered to Cas as he leaned close to him, pretending, as a cover up, to show Cas something on his phone.

‘Unless they’re being controlled,’ Castiel muttered back, ‘to the point where they don’t care.’

Dean gave him a wary look and leaned away to stow his phone away. He wouldn’t put it past an evil bitch to do that, but didn’t think a regular old demon could have that kind of control, or power, almost like a mind-warp, over a person. But then, there was always the unknown Emerald …

Both men seemed restless even as the night progressed and they came to accept the situation more and more. Dean did his best to make them feel comfortable by asking them questions about themselves and in turn he and Cas told them things about themselves too, but revised things to make it sound like they were regular old FBI officers. Once the basics were covered, Dean started on casual probing and digging to see if they’d open up about the woman each of them was supposed to meet on consecutive nights, but they both just referred to her as an “old friend” and had no idea what Dean was talking about when he brought up a second woman, whom Cas described for them.

Sam and Aroura didn’t stay as long as Dean had expected Sam to want to stay. A little over an hour, and on the way out, Sam texted (safer than going over there and getting the attention of the two reluctant men) on his way out, saying he and Aroura were going to drive around in her car for a while and he’d probably be at the inn by the time Dean and Cas were done with what they were doing.

Dean and Cas played some cards with the men, and some darts too. Cas sucked at all of the card games they played, but he was good at darts; he informed Dean that it was all about calculating when the right point to let go of the dart is, as well as the correct arch of the arm and distance from the board.

‘You know, we’re not all smart enough to make exact calculations, buddy,’ Dean said almost warily as Castiel watched him with a matter-of-fact expression, blinking at him like it was the simplest thing in the world.

‘I know,’ Castiel shrugged, ‘but you seemed surprised by the fact that I’m good at this.’

‘Did I?’ Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Sorry. From now on I’ll just expect you to be good at everything, then.’

‘I’m not good at _everything_ , Dean.’

‘Near enough.’

Castiel smiled softly. Dean raised his eyebrows at him, looking satisfied with the reaction he’d managed to draw from Cas. The two men they were basically babysitting looked at each other, not for the first time that night.

‘What?’ Dean asked, noting the exchanged look.

The men looked at each other again, slightly guilty looking now.

‘Sorry,’ said one of them. ‘We just … just wondering if you two are like … more than work partners.’

‘Yeah, we are,’ Dean said proudly, leaning one arm on Cas’s shoulder. ‘Why?’

‘No reason,’ said the man, shrugging. ‘Just wondering. Uh … good for you guys I guess.’

Dean looked at Cas and raised his eyebrows. Cas shrugged. They moved on and continued their darts game which Castiel won with a near perfect score. To make things fair, Cas sat out of the next game played and instead held Dean’s drink and cheered him on from the sidelines.

After a while they barely noticed the time passing. When Dean realized it was almost midnight, he was shocked by it. Had they actually managed to stop one of these men dying tonight? It seemed like it.

Until one of them went to the bathroom, and five minutes later someone else went in there and came out screaming that there was a man dead on the floor.

The bar was closed and police were called, of course, and they talked to the “agents”. Dean said that whoever it was must have been waiting in the bathroom and then escaped out the window, or climbed in and out, or something. He couldn’t exactly say “well you see, it’s a demon and she just appeared in the bathroom out of nowhere, probably” without sounding insane. After statements from Dean, Cas, the one remaining incredibly dazed man and the man who had found the body, they were free to go. The remaining man didn’t even say goodbye and walked off in the opposite direction of the one Dean and Cas had to walk in. They hadn’t taken the Impala, because they knew they’d both be drinking.

They didn’t talk much on their way to the inn. There was nothing to say. It was plainly obvious that this ritual was going to get done, no matter what happened. They were slightly disappointed but not surprised, as Sam would probably be in the morning when they told him about what happened, choosing not to disturb him tonight since he was probably busy with Aroura, or asleep with her. Either way, they didn’t want to interrupt.

When they got to their room, the first thing Dean did was strip off and get into bed, flat on his back looking dull, but he refused to look defeated. They weren’t defeated until … until … well, he didn’t know, but he refused to give in. One more death, and then another chance at witnessing the resurrection, but he knew that this time they had to stay in the car and watch from a distance, and they had to remain unnoticed.

‘Demons are cunning,’ Castiel stated as he climbed into bed next to Dean and faced him. ‘It’s not our fault that we were tricked tonight. You should note the use of the word “tricked”, there in place of the word “outsmarted” which I don’t believe we were. Demons are just …’

‘Cunning?’

‘Yes. Demons are cunning.’

‘Yeah, you said.’

Dean rolled onto his side, facing away from Cas and scowled at the wall ahead of him. Castiel, who had also been dragged down by the night’s recent events, took it upon himself to be the optimistic one, or the comforting one, because Dean had looked incredibly frustrated and though Cas couldn’t see his face, he could clearly see it in his head, the glaring, or worse, the blank stare, or even worse still, the blank staring glare.

Cas placed a hand on Dean’s back and felt Dean tense under his touch. He ran his hand along the back muscles and towards the shoulder, avoiding the tattooed area, and squeezed it gently.

‘Dean, this will be over soon. The ritual will end, we’ll find out who it was for, and if it was for Lucifer then we call on The Holy One and she kills him before he has a chance to do anything else like get started on the plans he revealed to Sam, for example.’

‘And then?’

‘And then …?’

‘Amara, God and his resurrected angels …’

‘We deal with that when the time comes.’

‘And if we can’t stop Lucifer as soon as we see him?’

‘Then we stop him the next time we see him.’

Dean didn’t respond. Cas left his hand on his shoulder. Slowly, Dean turned over and propped himself up on his elbow and gave Cas a serious look.

‘You really believe all that?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied confidently. ‘I do.’

‘Well then,’ Dean decided, leaning down to kiss Cas once before finishing his sentence, ‘then so do I.’

Dean’s frustration decreased slightly as he lay back down, but he was still ticked off and his mind was over active to the point that it took a long time for him to get to sleep, and when he woke in the morning it was to be unable to remember whether he’d slept or not, or if he’d simply been thinking throughout the entire night.

‘You were restless,’ Castiel informed him straight away upon noticing he was awake and confused looking. ‘You tossed and turned a lot and at one stage you almost threw the covers to the floor.’

Dean immediately felt guilt trickling its way into his foggy head like a slow drip of water turning into a small stream.

‘Did I keep you up?’ he asked in concern.

‘No,’ Castiel assured, ‘the boredom was what kept me up. The prospect of another day waiting for someone to die. The knowledge that we can’t even attempt to do anything about it because all of our attempts have been in vain. The fact that we’re going to have to spend another day in this stuffy room going between walking around aimlessly outside and watching Grey’s Anatomy on an annoyingly small screen. You know, that kind of thing.’

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Dean muttered gloomily. ‘What a great night’s sleep. Really fucking awesome. Breakfast?’

‘We’ll have to tell Sam about last night.’

‘Fucking marvelous.’

Thankfully, their mutual bad mood didn’t last the entire day and began lifting after the conversation with Sam who didn’t blame them for not being able to find out anything more, and seemed to be in a better mood than usual, probably owing to the fact that he’d spent much of last night with Aroura until she had to start her drive home at eleven.

The day passed just as they expected it to. After a last night’s bad rest, Dean fell asleep during an episode of Grey’s and Cas had to try very hard to stay awake for the rest of the episode and some of the next, during which Dean woke up as Sam had arrived, bearing a deck of cards he’d gotten out of the Impala after his walk to kill some time. By the end of the afternoon, Cas could proudly say he was improving after winning three poker games in a row earning him a pack of chewing gum, a smoothie and a nutrition bar that Sam had bet (they weren’t playing with money, it was for fun, not to compete) and from Dean, a half-eaten bag of chips, a whispered “IOU” involving blow jobs and, most spectacularly of all, Dean’s right sock with a hole where the big toe was.

‘I’m honored that you’d part with your most prized possession for me,’ Castiel said sarcastically, something he enjoyed toying with these days, making Dean smile innocently and give him an equally-sarcastic response.

‘Well, what can I say, buddy? You won fair and square. Just hold tight to that sock or I might be tempted to steal it back when you’re asleep tonight.’

‘What a shame that would be.’

‘A tragic loss,’ Dean agreed, grabbing a chip from the bag Cas had won from him and then going to wash it down with a sip from the smoothie from Sam that Cas was drinking. He quickly changed his mind when he got the first taste and screwed up his face in revolt. ‘Ugh,’ he declared. ‘It tastes like ass.’

Sam couldn’t help the tiny quirk upwards of his eyebrows in response to a thought that frankly he’d rather not have creeping into his head. Tiny as the quirk may have been, Dean caught it.

‘The donkey kind,’ Dean said gruffly. ‘Sam, you’re disgusting.’

‘What happened?’ Castiel asked, having missed Dean’s noting of Sam’s quirking.

‘My brother has a sick, twisted mind,’ Sam replied casually, ‘and assumes that just because his mind went straight to the sexy kind of ass-tasting that mine did too.’ Having realized exactly what he’d said, Sam looked just as revolted as Dean had when he’d tasted the smoothie. ‘There’s no sexy way to put that. Excuse me while I go and vomit.’

After that Sam left the room and didn’t return for twenty minutes, giving Dean and Cas ample time to finish their Grey’s episode, the bag of chips, the nutrition bar (which wasn’t actually that bad, shockingly for Dean) and for Cas to finish the smoothie and then attempt to kiss Dean with what Dean called his ‘gross as fuck smoothie slurping mouth.’

And then Cas chewed a stick of the gum he’d won, and Dean would allow the kissing to commence. Even though they were interrupted just minutes later by a bored looking Sam determined to win Dean’s _left_ sock, which led to a whole thing about strip poker ending in a ‘shut up, Dean’ from Sam and a whispered promise from Dean to Cas that the two of them would play that alone at some point.

They didn’t bother doing anything that night. They had pizza at a nearby Pizzeria and kicked back with some cheap store bought beers back at the motel, their night not really that different to their day. They parted around ten, giving Dean and Cas the perfect opportunity to play a game of strip poker like he’d mentioned earlier. It ended with Cas wearing nothing but socks and underwear and Dean completely naked and after losing another game but having no clothing to remove, he substituted stripping for making good on his earlier promise to Cas, giving him what he owed him from another Cas-won poker game.

The following day was very like the last. There were no plans or preparations to be made for the nights ahead. Nothing left to find out, no business to take care of in town in relation to the case. Just another day of sitting. Waiting. Boredom. Followed by a normal stakeout which they didn’t have high hopes for.

They didn’t sit outside for hours like they had on previous nights. They were getting fed up of this now, and knew that it was highly unlikely that times would change, so they got into position shortly after eleven, and saw the figure appear shortly before midnight.

It was the same drill as before. The figure went straight for one of the graves, but this time the three in the car didn’t move. They stayed, using binoculars to get a better look, and watched the figure vanish the dirt with the wave of a hand and then jump into the grave. There was a flash of light, and then the figure was holding another on the edge of the grave, shoving the former corpse forward onto his knees as the light died down, but was still was bright enough to illuminate the first victim’s face and

Lucifer.

‘I fucking knew it,’ Dean declared, not sure as to why he sounded so triumphant about a situation so dire. ‘Sam, I’m gonna need to borrow your phone.’

‘What for?’ Sam asked, a hollow feeling in his chest, watching Lucifer move onto the second grave.

‘Because it’d feel stupid to just talk to the fucking sky and expect the right people to have their ears on. Phone. _Hurry up_.’

Sam handed over his phone. Dean lit up the screen, about to go into contacts, when a voice penetrated the car, airy and feminine, that startled all three of them.

‘Don’t bother,’ it said. ‘Thoughts speak louder than words. I already know.’

And then the door of the Impala opened and an extremely small female dashed out, dark high-ponied hair flying behind her as she ran at Lucifer, now on the final grave, the final resurrection now complete.

Sam, Dean and Castiel got out of the car to get a better look even though they could barely see, and then they could see as something akin to a Harry Potter wizard duel went down, light against light, shooting out from both illuminated figures, one tall and threatening, the other small and fragile in appearance, but strong in her light and her determined expression. It seemed like neither could touch the other’s light, or grace, or power, or whatever the fuck it was and their arms angled to the side, sending the light away from their bodies until they cut it off completely an ran forward at each other in complete silence and grabbed onto one and other, a light surrounding them, mutually attacking and blocking all at once.

To say it happened slowly would be a lie. How she over-powered him was almost instant, her hands on his face, the sudden screams penetrating the silence, the burning white glow that shot through his skull making Sam, Dean and Castiel look away for fear of being blinded, and then he exploded.

Just like that.

Who Dean and Cas knew to be Ariana, The Holy One, took a step back to admire the burn marks on the ground before she strode towards each resurrected person and placed a hand upon them where they vanished, most likely reappearing in their homes, and then when Ariana turned around again she was Aroura and she strode out of the grave yard and right up to the three stunned men. Sam, it seemed, was the most thrown of all.

‘I think we need to talk,’ was her only statement.


	27. The Time Between The Ends

The conversation went on long into the night. Sam went from confused, to shocked, to mistrusting, to confused, to questioning, to confused and finally, into accepting and trusting while still remaining that tiniest bit confused.

‘I just don’t understand why you had to lie,’ Sam said, over and over and over, like a parrot that only knew one command, or like Gloria repeatedly screaming “JAY” on Modern Family which Sam had caught one or two episodes of on TV over the years.

‘Because I didn’t think you’d understand,’ Aroura repeated. ‘Then or now. And I thought it would be safer if you didn’t know, because if you didn’t know then Lucifer wouldn’t see that I was around when he popped into your head like I thought he would.’

‘And you asked my brother and Cas to lie?’ Sam asked, sounding slightly hurt and disbelieving.

‘I didn’t ask them to lie,’ Aroura said in a pleading voice, ‘I just asked them not to tell you about Lucifer being out, or about me being a hunter.’

‘Which is a lie.’

‘Not technically. Part of me is a hunter – or was a hunter – it was the second step into becoming The Savior. And even The Savior and The Holy One _sort_ of count …’

Sam breathed out a long, heavy sigh that sounded like someone was slowly letting the air out of a balloon through a tiny puncture in the side. Eventually, his shoulders hunched and he relaxed, giving up and bending forward to hug Aroura.

‘Just tell me everything next time,’ Sam requested. ‘Please. Who you are and when you’re them.’

‘I promise,’ Aroura said sincerely. ‘Oh, and Sam?’

‘Yeah?’

‘It’s Ruby. That demon. She was resurrected by Emerald who knew her in the past. She needed help with getting Lucifer here.’

Sam frowned, taking a step back.

‘So who is Emerald, exactly?’

‘Someone super powerful,’ Aroura shrugged, ‘but don’t worry about her. She’ll be gone before you know it. Ruby too. Either before or after I take care of The Darkness.’

Dean and Cas sat in the car as it happened, watching but unable to hear the conversation happening in the middle of a grave yard. Dean’s eyes were shifting around the figures, scoping out any movement in the shadows. Cas could tell what he was doing.

‘Dean,’ he said, ‘he’s gone. Lucifer’s just … gone. It’s over with him.’

Dean shook his head, insistent.

‘He can’t be,’ he declared. ‘He just can’t be. It’s not that easy. It’s _never_ that easy.’

‘Dean, it is,’ Cas groaned, placing a hand on his knee assumingly. ‘I know it never has been in the past, but it seems to be now. God told us when we met him that The Holy One could destroy Lucifer, and she did.’

‘But it’s not that simple.’

‘It is that simple.’

‘But –’

‘ _Dean_.’

‘It’s that simple,’ Dean muttered to himself, frowning deeply at nothing and then staring out the window. Nothing was stirring in the shadows, nothing but Sam and Aroura looking heated and then normal and then heated again. ‘Cas … Lucifer just got iced.’

‘I know,’ said Cas, trying to hold off a mirthful grin creeping up on him, and then letting it take over when he saw a light in Dean’s eyes that was rarely there, a smile accompanying. ‘He’s gone for good. We’re living in a post-satanic world.’

Dean’s somewhat satisfied smile turned into a huge beam of near-ecstasy and he lunged forward taking Cas into his arms. With a small, giddy laugh Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and held tightly to his jacket, burying his face in his shoulder, daring, for once, to believe in something good.

When they parted after some face-holding and loving-staring, Sam and Aroura seemed to have made up. They were walking hand in hand across the grave yard and back out towards the Impala which they got into wordlessly. Dean drove back to the inn at once for a final night there before they had to drive the whole way back to Kansas tomorrow.

‘Aroura’s staying a few more days,’ Sam told them on the way, ‘and then she’s going home to pick up some stuff so she can stay even longer. Shrek might come too.’

Dean, completely confused, suddenly had a mental image pop into his head of a big green ogre stomping around the halls of the bunker and was incredibly confused. And then he remembered and realized.

‘No dogs.’

‘Dean, come on.’

‘ _No dogs_.’

‘Dogs are great!’

‘Dogs shit and shed and tear up furniture!’

‘ _Dean!_ ’

Sam’s “Dean” wasn’t as convincing as Cas’s usually were.

‘No,’ Dean said firmly.

‘Please?’ Aroura said quietly. ‘He’s really well behaved and he barely sheds at all. And it wouldn’t be for long.’

‘No,’ Dean repeated.

‘Come on, Aroura – or Ariana, I think, who’s sort of Aroura, I think – just killed Lucifer! Let the dog come.’

‘No, Sam!’

‘I think a dog would be an interesting guest,’ Castiel said thoughtfully.

The stubborn expression dropped from Dean’s face.

‘Okay,’ he said in a tone that was teetering on the edge between one of another denial and a possible allowance, ‘maybe.’

By the end of the car ride, it was a yes.

Sam had rolled his eyes and muttered ‘sure, you say yes when it’s Cas but not your own brother’ which Dean had ignored.

Aroura took her own car the next day which, although was spent driving, also turned into a sort of miniature celebration in the Imapala. They rarely celebrated their achievements, but something as huge as Lucifer finally meeting his end warranted at least some acknowledgment, so they turned the radio up high and talked gleefully about what they’d do that night to celebrate it and stopped in several places along the way to grab some celebratory cupcakes which were easier to have while driving than an actual cake. When Sam dashed into the store, he made sure to get the ones without the brightly colored icing, and with the most natural ingredients possible. He knew Dean would probably be annoyed if he knew about the latter, but he also knew that Dean wouldn’t be seeing the packaging so he was sure he would get away with it. And he did.

They picked up the pizzas at their usual Pizza Hut before they got back to the bunker after the eleven hour drive. Aroura was awaiting them when they arrived sitting in her car patiently and followed them inside. The night that followed had a lot of laughter and light hearted comments and Dean grew to trust Aroura more rather than just liking her, now that it was out that she was The Savior even if she wasn’t _The_ Savior and just a mere particle of the entire being.

It was still going to take a while to get used to having Aroura and only Aroura, no other guests, around though. At least now they didn’t have to hide what they did from her, but at the same time she wasn’t going to get involved in casual cases as they discovered the next morning when Dean and Cas entered the kitchen after some fun in the shower to find Sam talking to her about a possible case he’d found that he was going to pitch when ‘the other two’ got up and stopped ‘sleeping their day away.’

‘What kind of case?’ Dean asked, without even wishing him a good morning.

‘A bunch of people were reported missing and found dead a week later in abandoned buildings in three towns close by each other over three weeks,’ Sam informed him. ‘I was thinking it could be a nest of vampires moving from place to place.’

‘That sounds about right,’ Dean agreed, pouring himself, and then Cas, some coffee.

‘Where?’ Castiel asked.

‘Close,’ said Sam. ‘I checked close by places first. It’s in the state.’

‘How close by?’ Dean inquired.

‘Two hours. The last vic disappearance was in Lyons.’

‘I know it,’ said Dean, nodding as he sat down. ‘Let’s go there then. We’ve got no time to lose if it’s vamps.’

‘So there’s no break at all between cases?’ Castiel asked, sitting next to Dean and raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

‘Not if there’s a case ready and waiting to start when we finish one,’ Dean shrugged. ‘But if you need a break, you can sit this one out.’

‘No,’ Castiel said quickly, ‘I was just surprised that you two seem to move from case to case so quickly. It must be why you’re often over tired when you finally do get to take breaks.’

Dean chuckled.

‘Yeah, must be. Tell you what, when we get done with this case we’ll take a day off after. Happy?’

‘I’m satisfied,’ Castiel said with a smile that affirmed the feeling.

Sam told Aroura that although they were going to be away, she was welcome to stay at the bunker by herself. Aroura shook her head and said that since they were going away, maybe she would skip the few days she’d been planning to stay and instead go collect some of her things and her dog so she could stay longer after the got back. Sam told her it sounded like a good idea. Dean and Castiel didn’t get to weigh in on the matter.

When they arrived in Lyons later that day, it was a blessing to have a normal seeming case. The families of the missing spoke of no suspicious behaviour, the quick search of the houses of the two people missing came back with no negative results and the local police, as usual, had no real leads. And, another bonus, Cas was back in his suit and trench coat, which was the best thing Dean saw all day … besides that one woman who’s sister was missing, with boobs so big they had to be fake … but, like a gentleman, he had avoided looking at the obviously rock solid balloons after the first initial couldn’t-help-it glance.

‘Dude,’ said Sam, once they were away from her.

‘I know,’ Dean agreed, without needing any context whatsoever.

‘If you two are discussing that woman’s breasts, I’d like to weigh in and say that I don’t understand why women do such unnatural things to their bodies,’ Castiel chipped in. ‘I’m sure she looked just fine before … her enlargement.’

‘People do crazy things, man,’ Dean shrugged, throwing an arm around his shoulders and steering him towards the car to stop him looking, almost sympathetically, back towards the house they’d just left. ‘I say … let ’em do it. Who knows, maybe she did it for herself and not for her boyfriend with the real flashy car in the drive way.’

‘Maybe,’ Cas muttered, ‘but it’s doubtful.’

Information now gathered, they had to determine where exactly the two missing had vanished from. To do so, they moved on to talking to the friends of the victims; friends that had been there on the night of the disappearances, and the place was clear; both victims had left a bar on Main Street with mysterious people and hadn’t returned.

‘So where could a nest of vamps be staying?’ Dean asked, when the group decided to have lunch. ‘Are there any abandoned buildings around?’

‘I guess we can find out,’ Sam told him, pulling out his phone and connecting to the wifi. A quick search, some scrolling and some reading, and he was displaying his screen. ‘Abandoned farm house,’ he announced. ‘Worth checking out?’

‘Could be,’ Dean nodded, looking at the black and white picture taken by a free-lance photographer who’d found the place on his way home from shooting abandoned houses. ‘Anywhere else we could check out if it’s a dud?’

‘There’s an abandoned two story house somewhere near town too.’

‘If we don’t find the location of the vampire nest in daylight, we could always go to the bar tonight and keep an eye out for suspicious activity and people leaving together who didn’t arrive together,’ Castiel suggested helpfully.

‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Sam agreed. ‘So we check out the farm house and use the bar as a backup if we’re wrong?’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Dean confirmed.

Castiel looked pleased with his contribution to this small and normal case. It wasn’t the first normal-ish case he’d worked with the Winchesters, but it was the first one where he felt they saw him as an equal in it. There would be no interrogating cats or using the names of pop stars for him in this case.

After lunch they hit the streets and asked around to see if anyone knew the location of the fam house and most were lost on the matter, until a group of teenagers overheard and told them that they used to drive out to the farm house all the time and mess around inside until one day in the recent past they’d heard screams coming from the place and bolted straight back to their car and drove away as fast as possible. When they asked for directions the teens were helpful, and one of them left them with a ‘duuuudes … rather you than me.’

They drove out to the farm house once they left the teens and agreed that it sounded like either the place had become suddenly inhabited by screamers, or it was the nest, so they made their plan as they drove. The three of them, armed, would stick together and make their way slowly from room to room. They’d enter through the front door, assuming it would be moderately safe due to the fact that it was day time and the nest should be asleep. They’d get rid of all of the vamps, hopefully without waking many of them, locate their hostages and get them out safe.

It was looking to be one of the rare easy in-and-out in a day cases as they parked outside and grabbed everything they needed, needles full of dead man’s blood lining their pockets just in case and knives held high, ready to swing at necks. The door was unguarded when they entered in a triangular formation, two in the back keeping a look out over their shoulders for rouge vampires sneaking up on them.

The nest was a small one, and they were scattered throughout the dark place strewn out on old blankets and pillows. There was six in the nest and they all slept alone apart from two, who were together. In the room with the two, one of them awoke but was silenced before he could make any sound other than the sound a head rolling across the floor made. The hostages were kept in the smallest room and one of them was passed out, the other gagged and whimpering quietly.

The only blood on Sam, Dean and Cas belonged to the vampires from the splatter or the hostages, who were covered in it. It wasn’t something that happened often enough for cases like this to be their norm, but boy, were they glad for the easy ones like this. Cas sat between the two hostages in the back seat and informed them that they would be fine, that Dean was driving them to the hospital, and that they should put all of that behind them. Sam told them the cover story for when they got back to their families, since they couldn’t exactly tell the truth. They were thankful and frightened when left at the hospital.

Now that was over and done with there was just one final trip back to the farm house to get rid of the bodies which they burned a little away from the place and made sure to put out the fire before it spread and took the farm house with it. And then they climbed back in the Impala and headed home, like they’d worked a simple 9-to-5 office job.

Sam and Dean were buzzing. At first Cas didn’t understand why, until he was told that most of their cases didn’t run so smoothly.

‘I always assumed I usually just caught you two on bad days where things seemed to just … go wrong,’ Castiel said thoughtfully, a ghost of a frown on his face as he looked between the two, catching their eyes in the mirror.

‘More like today just happened to be a day where things went right,’ said Sam. ‘Believe me, it doesn’t happen often.’

‘I don’t even remember the last case where one of us wasn’t almost killed by whatever we were hunting,’ Dean added. ‘Cas, you’re our good luck charm.’

‘I highly doubt that,’ Cas muttered, looking away from the mirror and downwards, his face flushing slightly at the way Dean had said it.

‘No, you are,’ Dean insisted. ‘This case went well. The cases you and me worked last month when Sam was held up with The First Book went over without a hitch. You’re like … our lucky rabbit’s foot, but with … less rabbit. And less foot unless you count the two at the ends of your legs.’

‘So, just lucky,’ Sam helped out.

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded. ‘Like a four leaf clover but without lea– you know what, I’ll just stop with the comparisons. You get the point.’

‘I always thought perhaps I was _bad_ luck,’ Castiel said, very quietly, voicing a thought he’d had many times over the years but never made known for fear of it being true.

‘Of course you’re not bad luck!’ Sam said in a way that made it sound like it was the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard.

‘Yeah, what he said,’ Dean nodded, looking at Cas in the mirror and seeing his slightly crestfallen expression brought on by his own thought. ‘Chin up, buddy. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us.’

‘You think so?’ Cas asked.

‘I know so,’ Dean promised. ‘Now wipe your left ear. There’s blood on it that must’ve splashed when you hacked off that vampire’s stupid head.’

Castiel’s smile returned to his face as he wiped away the blood Dean had pointed out to him. Unlike the blood, his smile couldn’t be wiped off for the rest of the journey.

The bunker was empty when they got there and straight away went to clean up after the hunt. Dean and Cas took longer than Sam to wash up due to a distraction in the shower where Dean spent several minutes with his back against the wall with Cas kissing him over and over showing his appreciation for being called a good luck charm.

Sam didn’t comment on their time spent in the shower when they finally emerged and he wasn’t waiting for them empty handed, having gone out to pick up food while they were busy.  He also bore a message from Aroura that she’d be back tomorrow night, her dog in tow.

‘How long are she and that thing going to be staying here?’ Dean asked semi-disapprovingly when it came to the dog.

‘I don’t know,’ Sam shrugged. ‘Until after Amara’s taken care of, probably. You know, since she’s the only one that can do it.’

‘Well this place better not end up stinking like dog,’ Dean muttered irritably.

‘That’s hypocritical coming from a man who spent an afternoon _as_ a dog,’ Castiel commented, raising his eyebrows at Dean.

‘Yeah,’ Sam agreed. ‘I thought that whole experience made you appreciate dogs more.’

‘I appreciate dogs,’ Dean defended himself, ‘I just don’t like how they shed and make everything stink. Dogs are cool, just not in the place where I live. And I did _not_ ,’ Dean stressed, turning towards Cas with a very serious look on his face, ‘spend an afternoon _as_ a dog. I spent an afternoon with the mannerisms of one.’

Cas smirked.

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Shut up,’ Dean told him, leaving Cas’s smirk still on his face but being ignored by Dean.

Thankfully the subject of dogs didn’t come up for the rest of the evening, nor did it come up later that night, thankfully leaving the time Dean spent pressing kisses into Cas’s collarbone carefree and dogfree, followed by a relaxed night of easy sleep with Dean’s arm draped over Cas’s side, his forehead pressed into the back of Cas’s neck.

As Dean had promised Cas they would do, it was time to take a couple of days off in between cases. When Cas awoke that morning and noticed the date, the eighteenth, a sudden thought hit him hard: _it’s Dean’s birthday in six days after today._ Followed by, _I need to get him something_. He kept the thoughts to himself that morning and was vague when Dean inquired about whether he wanted to do something that day, making a plan to get to Sam alone as soon as possible and ask whether he knew where the nearest town or city with shops was.

Another thing he had to figure out was _what_ to get for Dean. For Christmas it had been shirts, which had went over well, and Dean had worn every single one of them at least once already this month. But getting him something of that sort again seemed impersonal and like the only thing that Cas knew about Dean was what bands he listened to.  He wanted to get him something that he could really _use_ but at the same time something personal, but at the same time something he’d enjoy …

Which was why one gift wasn’t enough. He needed to make up for seven years of gift-free times, so he needed to get more than one thing and make it seem like he hadn’t gotten Dean anything at all. He wouldn’t mention the birthday at all, and if Dean asked where he and Sam were going he’d simply say it was to hang out for a few hours.

Sam was of great help and thought Cas’s idea to go and get something for Dean was a good idea. Sam and Dean had never been big on birthdays and usually got each other something from a cheap shop they saw when on the road, usually a joke-type present or something resourceful, but now that Lucifer was dead, things were looking up and the situation they were all in seemed better than ever before, it was about time they started doing things right. So Sam and Cas told Dean they’d be back in a few hours and drove off in search of the nearest mall which was 30 miles away, so they could have a good selection of shops to choose from.

Dean didn’t object when he heard Sam and Cas were going out, and he promised Cas he wouldn’t watch ahead on Grey’s Anatomy.

‘It’d throw us completely off track,’ he said sincerely. ‘I wouldn’t dream of doing that.’

‘Good,’ Castiel said seriously. ‘I need to see what’s going to happen with Owen and Teddy. You’ll be okay here alone?’

‘Always have been,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I’ll watch a movie or something. Clean some weapons. Do some searching around online for angelic omens that could give us a clue as to where those two angels are keeping Amara.’

‘You’re supposed to be taking a day off,’ Cas told him with a frown.

‘I’ll do it while eating pie and laying back against some pillows.’

‘Close enough.’

Cas gently pressed his lips against Dean’s for a moment and took a step back. Dean briefly clapped Cas on the shoulder and nodded towards the car for Cas to go and get into it. Leaning against the car, Sam rolled his eyes, which Dean noticed.

‘Problem?’ he challenged.

‘We’ll be back in a few _hours_ ,’ said Sam. ‘Not a few months. Stop looking like being apart is the worst thing that’s happened so far this year.’

‘I waited seven years to be able to say goodbye to Cas whatever way I want to,’ Dean said pointedly, ‘so shut up, Sam.’

‘It’s a _few hours_.’

Dean glared at him, stepped forward to where Cas had stepped away and kissed him lingeringly this time before stepping back again. Dean pointed a finger directly at Sam and declared, ‘deal with it.’

Dean turned on his heel and strolled away, a slight swagger in his gait. He reached the door just as he heard the car pull out of the spot it was parked in and he turned around just in time to throw Cas a wink when he noticed Cas looking out of the car window at him. Cas smiled shyly and turned away, focusing on staring straight ahead. Dean strolled back into the bunker, pleased with their parting, but now wondering what the hell besides what he’d said to Cas he was gonna do for however many hours alone.

‘You two are like a pair of high school kids,’ Sam commented, seeing Cas’s slight blush which Cas wasn’t an expert at hiding. ‘One second you’re like … hunter husbands, and the next you’re a couple of kids in a school yard.’

‘I’m not sure “husbands” is the appropriate term considering you compared us to high school students,’ Castiel said disapprovingly. ‘Considering the fact that high school students don’t tend to be married. Nor are Dean and I.’

‘Maybe not, but you’ve been arguing like a married couple for seven years,’ said Sam.

‘That’s untrue,’ Castiel muttered sheepishly.

‘Try witnessing it,’ Sam suggested, ‘and see how untrue it is then.’

‘Still,’ Castiel pressed, ‘I think it best if we stay away from terms associated with the subject of marriage. Remember the last time you jested in the area of the subject and Dean didn’t delay to derail you?’

‘Remember when Dean offered you his last name?’ Sam countered, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

‘Well the thing is, Sam, his last name is also your last name, so that takes some of the meaning out of it. A name is just a name.’

‘Not to Dean it’s not,’ Sam denied. ‘The name means family. And you and I both know that Dean doesn’t see you as a brother.’

‘Of course he doesn’t,’ Cas agreed, his brow furrowing. ‘Nor does he see me in a circumstance similar to marriage. Dean and I are just … friends … who are in love with each other … but not secretly anymore … and can do non-friend actives.’

‘Yeah, Cas. That’s called a relationship.’

‘I’m aware.’

‘And relationships,’ Sam continued factually, giving Cas a semi-serious look as he drove, ‘either end, or they don’t end. And I don’t know about you, but I know Dean wouldn’t be in this if he wasn’t in it for the long run.’  

Cas stared ahead of him, his eyes unseeing, as he considered Sam’s words carefully. He decided, in that moment, to put them out of his mind for now.

‘So what are you getting Dean?’ he asked, a false-casualness falling over him, and it was easy to tune in on Sam’s words now talking about the various gift ideas he had in mind.

The first thing Cas said to Dean when he got back and sat across from him in the long tabled room was, ‘I’m all in.’

Dean frowned at him and sat up straighter.

‘Hello to you too,’ he greeted. ‘You’re in what?’

‘You,’ Cas answered, too quickly, frowned and backtracked. ‘Not like that,’ he clarified, ‘but you. And me. I’m all in for what you could call the long run.’

Dean raised his eyebrows and slowly reached forward to lower the lid of his laptop until it was closed. Cas was looking at him with a serious expression. Dean kept his own casual and gave Cas a pleasant smile.

‘Good,’ he said easily, folding his hands on the table top. ‘Because so am I.’ After a pause, he asked, ‘so what did you and Sam do today?’

Cas made his manor as casual as Dean’s was and shrugged.

‘We drove around. We went into some shops. I bought some books to read, but nothing else. And we had lunch.’

In actual fact all of their non-personal purchases were currently in the trunk of the car Sam favored, but Dean needn’t know that.

‘Sounds like fun,’ Dean commented.

‘What did you do?’ Cas asked in return.

Dean shrugged indifferently.

‘What I said I’d do,’ he answered. ‘I was just searching up omens when you two got back,’ he said, nodding at Sam who had just entered the room and made his way over to take a seat.

‘You said you’d do that while leaning against pillows,’ Castiel said with a disapproving frown.

‘I wasn’t serious,’ Dean told him with a lazy roll of his eyes. ‘I just said that to get you off my back.’

‘You shouldn’t lie, Dean,’ Castiel said seriously.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dean said sincerely. ‘But if it makes you feel better, I didn’t sneak out to work any cases if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘I wasn’t thinking that,’ Cas assured him. ‘And your apology is accepted.’

‘Good,’ Dean grinned. He folded his arms and tilted his chair back on two legs, rocking somewhat dangerously, and fixed both Sam and Cas with a determined look. ‘So,’ he began. ‘What kind of things did you two say about me behind my back today?’

Sam and Cas exchanged a look and they looked back at Dean with the same expression. Sam abruptly stood up.

‘Well, I’m starving,’ he declared. ‘I’m gonna go –’

‘Don’t bother,’ Dean replied with a sigh at his change of subject. ‘I went out and bought some crap to cook. Mind if I borrow your …’ he hesitated, trying to force himself to say the three letters with a straight face, ‘BFF?’

‘Take him,’ said Sam, rolling his eyes. ‘I have to go call Aroura anyway. Let me know when you two are done playing restaurant.’

Sam headed out of the room and Dean stood up, walking around to where Cas was still seated across from him and he held out a hand.

‘Shall we?’ he offered.

Cas took Dean’s hand and got to his feet, nodding. Dean briefly paused, checked to make sure Sam was definitely out of the room, pulled Cas closer to him and kissed him.

‘I missed you,’ he said quietly.

Castiel smiled and looked down shyly, unable to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean put his finger under Cas’s chin and made him look at him. The look in Dean’s eyes made it difficult for Castiel to stay standing and suddenly all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around him and stay there for a while, but he had to get over that. He should’ve been used to this by now.

‘I missed you too,’ Cas admitted, taking a step back and distancing himself from the urge. ‘Now let’s go. Lunch was a while ago and I’d really like to eat something.’

Dean chuckled and started his walk towards the exit, on route to the kitchen, Cas at his side. With their arms swinging freely by their side, the obvious thing for Dean to do, which he did, was to grab hold of Cas’s hand although it was pointless since it was just a journey through the bunker. Still, it was nice.

‘So,’ Dean continued as if there had been no interruption, ‘what _did_ you and Sam say about me behind my back?’

‘Not much,’ Cas said with a lighthearted shrug. ‘The usual stuff. Like how annoying and whiney you are.’

‘Just as I suspected,’ Dean said, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh.

‘I’m joking, of course,’ Castiel clarified unnecessarily. ‘In fact I tried to restrain myself from talking about you too much for fear of me becoming the former of the two things I joked that you were, which you’re not.’

‘You could never be annoying,’ Dean told him.

‘If I were to continuously remind your brother of how astounding and attractive I find you non-stop for several hours at a time, I’m sure Sam would disagree with that statement.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ Dean laughed softly as they turned into the kitchen. ‘So, which do you want to do – boil the rice or fry the chicken?’

‘Which one would it be more difficult for me to mess up?’

‘You won’t mess up,’ Dean told him firmly, ‘but I’d say rice. If the chicken is undercooked you could kill us all.’

‘Then direct me to the rice,’ Cas decided determinedly while Dean gave a small chortle and directed him to where he’d put it after shopping for it today. Cas followed the direction. ‘Dean, can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ Dean nodded, taking the chicken out of the fridge and giving Cas a curious look as he did so.

‘As far as I’ve known you and Sam have had the tendency to eat out and not bother with any … home cooked meals. Right?’

‘Right. And?’

‘And I was wondering why that seems to have suddenly changed.’

Dean shrugged. He grabbed the frying pan and a pot and handed the latter to Cas for the rice, instructed him on how much to pour into the pot and to fill it with enough water to cover all of the rice, before he answered.

‘Things are different now,’ he said casually, looking indifferent. ‘Before, it was just me and Sam. And now it’s me, and it’s Sam, and it’s you and all three of us gotta eat. And I guess since last time you were human you had to live off of whatever crap you could get in that Gas ’n’ Slip, I want to make it different. You shouldn’t have to dine on cheap take out and cold leftovers. So when we’ve got time, I guess it wouldn’t kill us to make an effort.’

Cas had that smile on that made Dean realize that Cas saw right through his casual demeanor and was staring straight at the heartfelt gesture he was covering up with his poker face. Dean looked away, confrontation when it came to these gestures not being his strong suit, but felt Cas’s hand rest on top of his as he reached for the oil to grease the pan. He looked up and saw a soft, grateful look in Cas’s eyes and felt his heart flutter.

‘What?’ Dean asked, slightly defensive but failing at the continual look of unconcern.

‘Thank you, Dean,’ Cas said quietly, and kissed Dean’s cheek softly, feeling Dean’s face move beneath his lips as Dean could no longer hold back his goofy loved-the-fuck-up smile.

‘Ugh, not on top of the food,’ came a smart-ass remark as Sam entered the room.

Cas took a step back sheepishly and moved immediately to add water to the pot of rice, a tinge in his cheeks, his eyes on the floor, but a slightly guilty smile still plastered on his face. Dean threw Sam a dirty look.

‘Shut up, Sam,’ he retorted.

‘Is that your catch phrase now?’ Sam teased. ‘You seem to say it often enough.’

‘I’ve noticed that too, actually,’ Castiel added, turning away from the sink once he was done and heading back over to the hob where Dean was heating the pan and staring pointedly at the smugly smiling Sam. ‘It seems to have replaced the old reliable phrase of “son of a bitch” which Dean has been so fond in the past.’

‘Shut up, Cas,’ Dean offered.

‘It has variants,’ said Sam, eyebrows raising as an impressed look rolled over his features. ‘The old catchphrase didn’t have that.’

‘Well, no Sam, you’re not one hundred percent correct,’ Cas reasoned. He placed the pot in place, Dean having already turned on the heat for him, and leaned next to Dean with his arms folded. He paid Dean a glance before focusing back on Sam. ‘I’m sure I’ve heard Dean say “son of a gun” at least once.’

‘Really?’ Sam looked unsure. ‘That seems unlikely.’

‘You’re right,’ Cas agreed with the beginnings of a nod. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’

Dean dropped chicken strips from the container they came in into the frying pan which emitted a slight hiss as each new piece hit the heated oil. He did not look impressed with either of the other two in the room and fixed Sam with a pissed off look.

‘What do you want, Sam?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows in a manner that made him look almost bored.

‘I came to grab a smoothie to hold me over until that’s ready,’ Sam informed him, nodding at the food being cooked, ‘and to tell you you’d better make enough for four. Aroura will be here pretty soon and even if she’s not here in time we can keep her some leftovers.’

‘Noted,’ said Dean, gesturing for Cas to throw in an extra sprinkling of rice as he added some extra chicken, ‘now get out.’

Sam held his hands up innocently as he went over to the fridge and kept at least one of them in the air after he’d retrieved the smoothie from within.

‘Okay, I’m going,’ Sam promised, backing out of the room rather than going forwards. ‘I won’t interrupt your little domestic scene here. Promise.’

Dean threw him a bitch-face as he continued to back out, which he held until Sam had turned around, lowered his hand, began opening his smoothie and vanished from sight.

‘Keep an eye on the pot and the pan while I start on the stuff for the sauce,’ Dean instructed the slightly smiling Cas. ‘Stir the rice around so it doesn’t stick and don’t let it boil over, and shift the chicken around so none of it gets burned.’

‘Of course,’ Castiel nodded obediently, hesitated, and then added something he’d heard someone say on a cooking reality show he’d come across once when sifting through channels back when he was recovering from the attack dog spell, ‘… Chef.’

Dean stopped what he was doing immediately, turned very slowly back at face Cas, and raised his eyebrows.

‘What did you just call me?’ he asked.

‘Chef,’ Castiel repeated, very deliberately, with a partially cheeky looking smile. ‘Why?’

‘No reason,’ Dean replied slowly, a smile creeping up on him. ‘I just … like the way that sounds. Now get back to work.’

‘Of course,’ Castiel promised, waiting until Dean had turned away again to once again add and emphasize, ‘ _Chef_.’

When Dean automatically turned around again, he saw Cas wasn’t looking at him, but was smirking. Shaking his head to himself, Dean turned away again and got on with what he was doing.

They managed to make the meal with no mishaps besides one stupid splashing incident which resulted in a stain on Cas’s sweater, giving Dean an excuse to dab at him with a paper towel and when that failed, to give him the flannel he was wearing, leaving Dean bare armed in his t-shirt from under it and leaving Cas in the flannel, buttoned up, highly suiting him. When Sam narrowed his eyes in suspicion at this change of wardrobe, Dean responded with a ‘not a word’ before Sam could even open his mouth.

Aroura did arrive, slightly later than they had anticipated, but she was grateful for there being food after her long drive. Her dog, Shrek, seemed shy in the new environment but seemed friendly, immediately taking a liking to Sam, and then Cas, while Dean watched warily muttering something about shedding.

‘Come on, Dean,’ Cas pleaded from his position on the floor on his knees with the dog.

‘Yeah, come on Dean,’ Sam mimicked as he kneeled across from Cas.

Dean groaned and took a step closer.

‘If that thing bites me, it’s outta here,’ Dean warned.

‘He doesn’t bite,’ Aroura told him.

‘So you say,’ Dean muttered, holding a hand out to the eagerly sniffing dog.

Shrek sniffed at Dean’s fingers for a moment, and then licked him, continuing to lick his hand until he pulled it away only to pat the dog with it. Soon enough he was on his knees at Cas’s side, letting Shrek attempt to climb him to lap at his face with his tongue.

‘So your objections were …?’ Sam asked sarcastically several minutes later from his seat, taking a breather from doggy-time.

‘Oh, they still stand,’ Dean said very seriously, looking Sam directly in the eyes. ‘Clearly I’m just doing this to get you two off my back.’

He looked from Sam to Cas with a determined expression. Sam rolled his eyes.

Cas wasn’t paying any attention to what was going on and was scratching the hyperactive Shrek behind the ear. He hadn’t ever been around any kind of animal for this long before, at least not when he was in his right mind, and he seemed to be enjoying himself considerably. That was the majority of the reason that Dean stayed on the floor with Cas and the dog, even though his knees were aching and he knew he’d stink like dog for days no matter how many times he showered. With the dog around, the smell would be around. But with the dog around, the look Cas had in his eyes right now would be around, so it was a small price to pay.

‘The bed’s gonna smell like a dog too,’ Dean said that night when he and Cas were getting into it, but not angrily, more jokingly.

‘Who cares,’ said Cas. ‘I like dogs. I’d like to be around them more often. I’d like to be around all animals more often.’

‘Then remind me to take you to a pet store next time we see one,’ Dean joked. ‘Or a petting zoo.’

‘If you complain about the smell of a single dog, I highly doubt you’d be able to handle a petting zoo,’ Castiel said, very seriously.

‘Well then I’ll just have to suck it up,’ Dean said determinedly, his face matching his tone. ‘It’ll be worth it for you, won’t it?’

Cas’s smile spread slow across his face. He leaned in to kiss Dean just as slowly, pulling away even more so, their hands finding each other under the covers, Cas’s foot trailing gently up and down Dean’s leg at the same time.

‘You’re really all in?’ Castiel asked quietly, looking at Dean from under his lashes, part of him half afraid that the answer would be different now they were alone and the day was over.

‘I’m all in,’ Dean promised. His free hand made its way up to caress Cas’s cheek, his thumb stroking the corner of his smile. This smile, Dean realized, was one that was even more precious than the one Cas had had when playing with the dog. ‘I’m in it as long as we’re both alive,’ he whispered, pausing before adding, ‘and long after we’re both gone.’

Cas leaned forward and pressed his forehead into Dean’s chest, letting go of his had beneath he sheets so he could wrap both of his arms around Dean’s midriff, feeling Dean’s arms wrap around him in return.

‘I don’t want to think about that,’ Cas mumbled in a voice that made Dean’s stomach twist in on itself, and made his grip tighten. ‘I don’t want to think about either one of us dying yet. I know that we could die any day,  and that anything could happen at any moment, and that not everything that gets thrown at us will have a solution as easy as Aroura, or The Savior or whatever killing Lucifer, but I don’t want to think about it.’

‘Then don’t,’ Dean urged. ‘I’m sorry I brought it up. Don’t think about it. I’m alive, you’re alive, we’ve come this far, that’s what matters. I’m not gonna let anything fuck it up. Not if I can help it.’

‘Neither am I,’ Castiel determinedly told Dean’s chest. ‘We survived the apocalypse. We made it through purgatory together. We can handle whatever is thrown at us both before and after Amara is gone for good.’

Cas pulled back at sat up boldly by the end of his statement, looking firm in his belief in his own words. A similar thing came over Dean.

‘Exactly,’ he declared. ‘We’re gonna make it, you and me. We can make it.’

‘We can make it,’ Castiel echoed. ‘We can make it …’ He softened again, the smile from before now back on, making everything seem suddenly lighter. ‘I love you,’ he said easily.

‘I love you too,’ Dean told him back, grinning at him. It was getting easier and easier to say the three words he’d avoided saying to anyone for so long.

Cas looked proud and grateful when he said, ‘I know.’

Dean chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly.

‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘you don’t. You don’t even know the half of it.’

‘I do,’ Cas corrected him, frowning disapprovingly now. ‘I do know. I can guess what it is that you’re feeling, because I feel it towards you. _You_ are the one that doesn’t know how much it means when I say it. You’re the only person I’ve ever said those words to. Ever.’

‘And so are you,’ said Dean. ‘Besides my mom when I was a kid. You’re the only one. And coming from me … that means … a lot.’

‘I _know_ , Dean,’ Castiel stressed.

This time, Dean didn’t correct him. He still wasn’t sure that Cas fully understood exactly how much it meant, how Dean’s heart felt like it was choking him every time he looked at Cas, how Dean still couldn’t quite believe that somehow Cas loved him too, how all Dean wanted to do these days was be with Cas, making up for all the years they’d lost being two idiots who couldn’t talk about their feelings if their lives depended on it …

But he would show him. Dean had years to show Cas exactly what he meant to him. He didn’t have to worry about it, because one day, Castiel would _know_.

‘Come on,’ Dean said, changing the subject and reaching for the remote, ‘let’s watch an episode or two of Grey’s before we crash. Sound good to you?’

Castiel nodded.

‘Anything sounds good to me when you say it.’

Grinning, Dean grabbed the TV remote with one hand and threw his free arm around Cas, and got the episode started while the two of them relaxed leaning back against their unchanging mound of pillows. It seemed like all the talking about things had worn Cas out, because before episode’s end, he was dozing against Dean and struggling to stay alert enough to watch the episode. When it got to the point where he couldn’t keep his eyes open, Dean decided they’d better call it a day and turned the TV off and gently shifted Cas into a more comfortable looking position so he could sleep better. As an afterthought, he placed a pillow behind Cas for Cas to wrap his arms around if he were to turn onto that side in his sleep like he often did.

The last thing Cas whispered before he drifted off was another ‘I love you.’

Dean just chuckled, kissed his forehead and muttered, ‘I know,’ although he knew Cas was probably already asleep and didn’t hear him.

When Dean awoke the next morning, Cas was already awake and reading in the dull morning light. Dean looked up at him and stayed still for a while, admiring the concentration on his face as his eyes steadily moved back and forth across the page. Dean stirred and reached out to drape a hand over Cas’s waist under the covers, used his other hand to shift upwards into a half-sitting position so he wasn’t up as high as Cas was, rested his head against Cas’s shoulder and then kissed it gently.

‘What are you reading?’ Dean asked, still drowsy, his eyes not yet focused enough to read the words on the page that could hint as to what the book was.

‘The first Harry Potter book,’ Castiel replied without taking his eyes away from the page. ‘I saw all of the books when Sam and I were out yesterday and figured that if Charlie were here she’d be likely to urge me to read this series along with many others. This is the one that stayed in my thoughts due to the fact that I heard her muttering to herself about how Hermione Granger wouldn’t give up, were Charlie her, back when she was struggling to translate The Book of The Damned.’

‘Is it good so far?’ Dean inquired.

‘Reading it is far more enjoyable than having the story already in my head due to Metatron’s book-knowledge-transfer of years past, yes,’ Cas nodded, carefully placing a bookmark (new too) into the book and closing it when he got to the end of the paragraph he was on. ‘I dislike the Dursleys immensely. And, if I try hard enough, I’m sure I can train myself not to remember all the people that die in the books that follow.’

‘Good, spoilers suck,’ said Dean, sitting up higher so it was easier to face Cas. ‘Hey, so, which one is the owl? Hagrid or Hedwig? I always get them confused.’

‘I haven’t gotten that far yet,’ Cas answered. ‘But it’s Hedwig. Hagrid is the one who tells Harry he’s a wizard, as far as I recall.’

‘The big hairy dude with the funny accent,’ Dean thought out loud, remembering seeing the movies. ‘I remember now.’

‘I don’t know what his accent sounds like,’ Castiel said, looking disappointed.

‘Well if Charlie were here, she’d tell you to watch the movies and find out,’ Dean shrugged. ‘But probably to read the books first. So … read that book, then we’ll watch the movie. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ Cas agreed. ‘And don’t forget, you promised to watch all of the Hunger Games movies with me.’

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ Dean promised, ‘we’ll get around to it eventually. If you want, we can start today. Take another day off and get back to work tomorrow.’

‘I’d like that,’ said Cas, looking satisfied with the suggestion. ‘I’m sure we could get through all of them today and still have time to spend time with Shrek.’

Dean had almost forgotten about the dog, and rolled his eyes when he saw the glint in Cas’s and the accompanying smirk that formed on Cas’s mouth when he saw the remembrance dawn on Dean.

‘Speaking of that hairy little guy,’ Dean distracted smoothly, ‘why don’t we go wash off whatever stink he left on us yesterday and see what happens when we’re under water?’

‘I hope you realize that being around him today will have the same results as yesterday,’ Castiel said in warning tones, gazing at Dean with a hint of something serious in his eyes.

‘Cas,’ said Dean, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder and giving him a look equally as serious, ‘I’m not really talking about the dog. I’m talking about fucking in the shower.’

‘I know,’ Cas smirked, ‘I just like hearing you say it.’

‘So you’re in?’ Dean asked eagerly.

Cas reached out, threw his arms around Dean’s neck and kissed him. He pulled their faces apart but left his arms where they were.

‘I will be,’ Cas teased.

Before Dean had time to comprehend the joke, Cas had already extracted his arms and hopped out of bed and sauntered over to where he kept his clothes to choose an outfit for the day. Dean stared at his back for a moment until he recovered enough from the shock of the joke to go over and join him.

‘Could I borrow one of your flannel shirts to wear today?’ Cas asked at ease, looking inquisitively at Dean at his side, feigning a look of innocence while all the while knowing what was going through Dean’s mind. ‘I quite liked wearing the one you let me borrow yesterday evening.’

‘Borrow as many of my shirts as you want,’ Dean half-growled, dropping the t-shirt he’d just picked up and placing his now-free hands on Cas’s bare waist, forcing him to turn and face him. ‘You look fucking hot in them.’

The fake innocent look was gone now, and the only thing flaming in Cas’s eyes was extreme mischief.

‘I know,’ he boldly stated, sliding his arms around Dean’s waist and pulling their bodies together, chest to chest. ‘I think I finally understand why you tend to see so many people in the streets wearing what is obviously a shirt belonging to their significant other.’

‘Is that so?’ Dean asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

‘Yes, it is,’ Castiel crooned. ‘In other words, _I like wearing my boyfriend’s shirt._ ’

Back in the beginning of their relationship, the word made Dean cringe inside. But now, he was beginning to get a taste for it, hearing Cas say it like that.

‘And I like my boyfriend wearing my shirt,’ Dean murmured, pressing his face into Cas’s neck.

The movement of Dean’s lips against Cas’s neck while speaking turned into light kisses pressed to the same spot, over and over again, while Cas lowered his hands and they lingered near Dean’s ass. The longer they lingered, the more they swept over it, and the more they swept over it, the closer they got to the final move that determined exactly what they were going to do now, Cas’s hands grabbing hold and squeezing it in a way that most certainly wasn’t gentle.

‘I don’t think we’re going to make it to the shower,’ said Cas, breathless, though he hadn’t been moving.

‘I don’t even think,’ said Dean, who was now kissing and sucking on Cas’s collarbone, ‘we’re going to make it back to bed.’

‘What do you – oh –’

Cas stopped talking as Dean suddenly dropped to his knees, his hands sliding down Cas’s torso to the waistband of the pajama pants he was wearing. When Dean’s thumbs hooked under the waistband, Cas was most definitely a goner.

One cock-sucking and a sneaky finger in the asshole later, they finally made it to the shower. After something definitely bigger than a finger in Dean’s ass, some too-sensual-but-let’s-go-with-it body washing, a good shampoo and condition and a shave later, they finally made it out for a late breakfast.

‘So Cas and I were thinking of staying in today,’ Dean told Sam casually, hoping he’d go along with it and not want to take on a case that day, ‘and then we’ll go back to looking for cases tomorrow.’

‘We were going to do the same,’ said Sam, gesturing to himself and Aroura. ‘Take some time to just … talk about things, I guess. You know, the difference between Aroura and the actual Savior. She’s got some theories about that Lucifer ritual and why exactly Emerald brought _Ruby_ , yeah, it was her, back.’

‘Feel free to send those theories our way when you two are done throwing them around,’ Dean suggested.

‘We will,’ said Aroura.

‘What are you two going to do?’ Sam asked conversationally, looking between Dean and Cas respectively.

‘I’m making him watch movies based on books I’ve read with me,’ Cas stated, looking pleased with how he’d worded it and paying Dean a side glance to see how he’d respond to the “I’m making him” he’d just casually thrown out there. ‘Right, Dean?’

‘Right,’ Dean agreed. ‘Though I wouldn’t say _making_. Jennifer Lawrence is hot.’

‘And you’re in a relationship,’ Cas retorted, ‘so I would advise you didn’t use how attractive you find people as reason for watching movies with said person you’re in a relationship with.’

Dean raised his eyebrows, turning towards Cas looking highly impressed with how sharp and direct, yet simultaneously casual his tone sounded. Castiel smiled at him, innocently as usual, and tilted his head to the side, surveying Dean curiously, expectantly, waiting for some smart remark in return.

‘Something to say?’ he asked sweetly.

‘Nothing at all,’ Dean replied politely in tones that mirrored Cas’s. He looked at Sam to see what reaction Sam had had, and Sam looked just as floored as Dean felt the moment Cas had made his blatant statement.

‘Well enjoy that,’ said Sam.

‘Say hi to Katniss for me,’ added Aroura. ‘I assume.’

‘You assume correctly,’ Castiel nodded, ‘and we’ll be sure to pass the message along.’

Soon afterwards, Dean and Castiel left for their bedroom. The first place they checked was Netflix only to be disappointed that not all of the movies in the series was on it, although there was something called “The Starving Games”, a parody of sorts, which they planned to watch after they’d watched all of the movies. It wasn’t difficult to find links online for the movies not on Netflix.

While Dean was setting up everything, Cas headed back to the kitchen to raid it for any viable leftover junk food from Christmas. There wasn’t much, but there was enough for it to be not completely pathetic. He took them back to the bedroom and saw Dean had set up the TV, had kicked off his shoes and was sitting comfortably on the bed back against the pillows he didn’t sleep with, but in waking hours became oh-so handy.

‘Hey, I was thinking, since we’re not going out today, why don’t we change into something more comfortable?’ Dean asked as Cas entered the room.

‘Like what?’ Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged.

‘T-shirts and sweats?’ he suggested. ‘It beats lounging around fully dressed. We can just get redressed if we decide to go anywhere.’

‘We could do that,’ Castiel agreed, nodding. ‘Although I don’t own any sweat pants.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Dean, getting off the bed and heading over to his dresser. He started to root around in it. ‘I wanted to ask you before I just went ahead and changed …’ He found what he was looking for, and pulled out four articles of clothing. ‘You can wear some of mine. And my t-shirt since you were so keen on wearing my shirt today.’

Dean tossed the clothing across the room to Cas who smirked as he caught them and placed them on the bed next to where he’d put the junk food.

‘Thank you, Dean,’ Castiel said sincerely, unbuttoning Dean’s shirt to replace it with another of Dean’s shirts. ‘I appreciate the gesture.’

Dean grinned at him as he began to undress.

‘Well, you know. I just thought … we’re watching a whole bunch of movies. Might as well make a day of it.’

‘That is the logical thing to here,’ Castiel agreed.

‘And, you know, I was thinking,’ said Dean, not meeting Cas’s eye and instead focusing on pulling on the sweats, ‘later, after, we could maybe … go eat something. Out somewhere.’

‘That sounds like a good plan,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I’m sure Sam and Aroura would appreciate it too.’

‘No, not them,’ Dean clarified quickly. Castiel looked at him, a crease between his brows. ‘I mean as in … just us. Alone. Somewhere.’

Dean was concentrating on folding the clothes he’d been wearing, still not looking at Cas. It dawned on Cas, or at least he hoped so, what Dean was implying and he crossed the room in silence, his footsteps light, so that when he placed his hand on Dean’s arm it startled Dean as he looked up.

‘Dean,’ Cas asked quietly, ‘are you asking me out on the social convention between two individuals known as a date?’

‘Do you …’ Dean hesitated, clearing is throat. ‘Do you want me to be asking you … I mean … are you saying yes?’

‘Yes,’ Cas said evenly, ‘I’m saying yes.’

‘Then that’s what I’m asking,’ Dean confirmed, sounding as though he was gaining confidence. ‘I mean, we’re together, and it’s been like, a month … or something … and we still haven’t … done that … exactly … yet … so I was just –’

Cas cut Dean off by kissing him, grinning all the while.

‘I appreciate this gesture even more than I appreciate you lending me your clothes,’ he said, pressing their foreheads together, the ends of their noses also touching. ‘And I would _love_ to go on a date with you.’

‘Great,’ Dean grinned, taking a step back from Cas, back to his usual self. ‘I’ll google some places on my phone while we watch the movies. But … nothing too fancy or formal, you know? Just somewhere with drinks and food where we can show up, wear whatever, talk a little … there might not be anywhere close by so we might have to drive a little out of our way, so I –’

Cas kissed away the return of the rambling and clarifying.

‘That sounds perfect,’ he said sincerely, ‘now be quiet. I want to judge for myself whether this Jennifer Lawrence is attractive or not.’

‘I’ll peel back the gray blanket,’ said Dean, turning away and heading towards the bed, ‘for _extreme_ comfort.’

Cas laughed, watching Dean start to cross the room. He followed, feeling a familiar flutter in his chest that was somehow different, prepared for a day spent close to Dean under the blanket, feet rubbing together and hands accidentally meeting in the one unopened bag of chips Cas had found.

The movies were all long, so they wouldn’t be able to watch _all_ of them before they went out later. It was coming close to twelve now, and each movie was two or more hours long, so they decided on the first three before they went out that night, leaving the last in the series for after their return, finished off with the parody to take the edge off whatever feelings the last movie brought.

Castiel seemed happy with the book-to-movie production, although commented that though there were lines almost straight out of the book, there was no explanation as to what they meant, for example the scene where Katniss and Gale discussed how many times their names were in for the drawing that day. He also mentioned the fact that there was a character removed entirely, the character who had in actual fact given Katniss the Mockingjay pin.

‘I also wanted to see the shower in her room in the training center,’ Cas added when it got to the part where Katniss was in the training center. ‘It was described in the books in a way that made me want to see it in action.’

‘Yeah, well, you know movies,’ Dean shrugged. ‘They only take the basics and put a whole new twist on whatever’s left over. I mean, have you seen Titanic? I bet Jack and Rose didn’t even hook up in real life.’

Castiel frowned, giving Dean a quizzical look.

‘I haven’t seen the movie, but I’ve heard about the storyline, and I can almost certainly guarantee you that Jack and Rose don’t exist. None of those characters do.’

Dean raised his eyebrows slowly and gave Cas a challenging look in return.

‘Is that so?’ he asked.

‘Yes, it is,’ Castiel replied. ‘I’m sorry to burst your bubble, to use a phrase I’ve heard used around.’

‘Well on the contrary, I know for a fact that one of the characters in the movie besides the Captain and other staff that may exist actually _does_ exist,’ Dean corrected. ‘She’s called Molly in the movie, although in reality people didn’t start calling her Molly until _after_ the boat sank.’

Castiel looked impressed with Dean’s knowledge, and it showed in his sudden smile.

‘How do you now that?’ he inquired.

‘Because the actress who plays Molly is in American Horror Story and that show is fucking _awesome_. It’s _almost_ as good as Game of Thrones, but neither of those even come close to Grey’s Anatomy.’

‘Of course,’ said Cas, with a knowing roll of his eyes. ‘So what’s American Horror Story about?’

‘Well there’s Murder House, Asylum, Coven, Freak Show and Hotel … and they’re all complicated on their own. We’ll watch it when we’re done with Grey’s Anatomy if you want.’

‘I’d like that,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I’d like to show me all of the shows you watch. I had no idea you were so knowledgeable when it came to the world of television.’

‘I only know the shows that have something in them I like,’ Dean informed him. ‘Like Grey’s Anatomy, that has McDreamy. Game of Thrones has lots of hot naked chicks – kinda like Orange is The New Black except with less lesbians and more murder – and American Horror Story has freaky horror stuff that for once I don’t have to deal with. I just get to sit back and watch. And the hot Lady Gaga in Hotel is a pretty good contributing factor; no one should look that hot covered in blood.’

Castiel chuckled.

‘Well, I look forward to getting to watch these shows with you. Now let’s concentrate on what we’re actually watching – Katniss and Peeta are about to have a meaningful conversation.’

‘My lips are sealed,’ Dean promised, further confirming so by pressing a finger to his lips, and then pressing those sealed lips to Cas’s cheek, making Cas smile shyly and shuffle to get closer to Dean, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his shoulder.

Dean did appreciate a day of lounging around and movie watching, but the fact that he could be as lazy and as a loungy (a word he knew didn’t exist, but didn’t care, and he used it liberally in his mind) as he wanted was only the tip of the ice berg ( _heh, ice berg, Titanic,_ he thought). The best thing about it was getting to be right next to and up against Cas for hours on end when they were both fully a) conscious and b) clothed. And being like this had little unexpected perks that made Dean shiver each time. He wasn’t sure if Cas was even aware he was doing it, but whenever Cas moved in a way that made his face get close to any part of Dean, Cas would kiss that part of him lightly once, maybe twice, and carry on as if nothing had happened, not even acknowledging it.  Dean acted casual throughout each tiny encounter too, not moving, expression unchanged, but smiling inside at the phantom tingling feeling he could feel on his skin where Cas kissed, whether through the fabric of the shirt covering his shoulder or chest, or directly on his bare arm.

Dean, in turn, had unconsciously slipped his hand up Cas’s shirt and was going between stoking up and down the curve from Cas’s hip where the sweats were low hanging on due to their size, up to the slight dip of Cas’s slim waist, or alternately resting his hand on Cas’s hip with his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of the sweats. He also rested his hand on Cas’s stomach for a while, feeling it move gently up and down as Cas breathed, the skin warm beneath his palm. Dean wasn’t aware of it, but Cas’s skin was tingling under Dean’s hand just as much as Dean’s was under where Cas’s lips fluttered over, barely even pressing onto the skin before sweeping away again.

They didn’t leave the room for lunch. They only ventured off of the bed included brief trips to the kitchen to hydrate, or trips to the bathroom due to hydration. Dean did a little fishing around on his phone during one of Cas’s trips for water and made some plans for after they finished the three movies, which happened between six thirty and seven.

‘So, you hungry?’ Dean asked, as the credits rolled for Mockingjay: Part One.

‘Starving,’ Castiel announced, stretching his legs out from the curled up position they’d been in for the past two hours, similarly stretching out his back as he pulled himself into a sitting position so he was more level with Dean. ‘Where,’ he began, pausing a moment to place on of those fleeting kisses from earlier on Dean’s cheek, ‘are we going?’ he finished, and punctuated his question with a similar kiss on Dean’s lips.

‘There’s a place,’ said Dean, mimicking Cas with a light-speed cheek kiss, ‘twenty minutes away,’ he finished, mimicking the lips kiss to finish off. ‘Get dressed and we’ll go?’

‘Sure,’ Cas nodded, again stopping mid-sentence to kiss Dean, only this time feeling Dean capture him in his arms and deepen the kiss before allowing Cas to pull back, ‘do I need to bring anything?’

‘Just yourself,’ Dean informed him. ‘And your appetite. Because I’m paying. With actual cash, for once.’

Cas, now half way through detangling himself from the blanket and Dean and getting off the bed, paused and gave Dean a semi-surprised look, mixed with something that looked a little like he was impressed, and slightly disbelieving.

‘I can’t wait,’ Castiel decided on saying, grinning to himself as he began to redress in the clothes he’d put on this morning.


	28. It's That Simple, Part Two

The twenty minute drive to the small Bar & Grill in Smith Center was uneventful. They discussed the movies, and Cas said how he thought it was an interesting choice for the two parter finale to leave off where it did. He also mentioned that the world portrayed on screen was vastly different from what he’d been imagining inside his head when reading the book.

‘It’s almost disappointing,’ Cas admitted.

‘Well you know what they say,’ Deans shrugged, partly wondering who “they” were as he said the phrase he’d heard thrown around before, ‘nothing can live up to the power of imagination.’

‘There’s some truth to the proverb,’ Castiel approved timidly, ‘but only in certain situations.’

‘What do you mean?’ Dean asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

‘I mean that the District Thirteen shown on screen could never live up to the visions painted and forever engraved inside my mind, it’s true, but there are some things that I tried for years to create in imagination that the reality of which far exceeds in quality and enjoyment.’

‘Oh yeah? Like what?’

‘You know exactly what I’m talking about,’ Cas scorned.

‘Humor me.’

‘Pizza, Dean. I’m talking about pizza.’

Dean’s head snapped towards him and he forced himself to look visibly upset, but Cas wasn’t buying it. Castiel’s eyebrows raised, an expression that said “really Dean?” written all over his face. The false sadness dropped from Dean’s features to be replaced by a disgruntled frown.

‘You’re mean,’ he stated, turning away from him to keep his eyes on the road.

‘My sincerest apologies are all yours,’ Castiel replied, sounding as unapologetic as he could get. He didn’t change his tone when he added, ‘but you know it was a joke and that clearly I meant my self-created images of you and I in my subconscious at most times and, at others, my direct line of thought.’

‘That’s better,’ Dean permitted. 

Dean and Castiel didn’t generally make it a thing of walking into places together, holding hands, with a typical “LOOK, A COUPLE” look, owing to the fact that most of the places they’d walked into together they’d either been in a group, shopping, or on a case. But they walked into Pooches, the quaint and relatively busy Bar & Grill with their hands joined looking like they were there for exactly what the were there for, but most people were wrapped in in their own antics and didn’t pay any attention to the two new arrivals. Those who did bother to look as they made their way to the bar didn’t seem to care.

It wasn’t the greatest place they could have gone for their first ever _real_ date, but there was a great variety of food and the steak was well recommended, so that was what they ordered. They split one beer between them, partly because there was no need to drink and partly because Dean was driving. It was nice, sitting across from each other, sharing a meal and a drink, talking, brushing hands when they reached for the drink at the same time and it not being weird at all like it would have been any number of years ago.

The most surprising thing about the whole experience was that it didn’t feel new. Not even in the slightest.

They’d sat across from each other, side by side, in a varying array of positions, in diners together for years. Usually Sam was there it was true, but sometimes he wasn’t. Dean remembered the last time the two of them had been alone together in a situation like this. They’d been at a diner, there were ships on the walls. He’d been wearing that shirt, the one with the faded pink and purple blue, and Cas of course was dressed in his usual trench coat and tie. It was the meal during which Dean had asked Cas to take him out if he went dark side … he pushed the thought from his mind.

Although he understood now, that Cas could never kill him. People had been telling them for years to kill each other, but even in mind controlled states, or controlled by the rage and anger burning within because of stupid marks, they never could. Clearly he’d been an idiot to ask Cas to take him out.

No, the only taking out they’d be doing was Dean taking Cas out for a shared meal which didn’t consist of death requests, and instead consisted of Dean getting to see the smile, and hear the laugh, that had been so rarely seen up until recently. This taking out allowed Dean to reach across the table and rest his hand on top of Cas’s, it allowed him to point out the sauce mark on Cas’s chin and when Cas missed it, to wipe it off with his own napkin. It allowed him to feel Cas’s foot briefly run up his lower leg under the table, leaving him to wonder where exactly Cas had learned that move or whether it was just instinctive. It allowed the two of them to walk out an hour after they’d gone in, their arms around each others’ waists, laughing at an anecdote Dean had told, and then it allowed for them to pause before they got back into the Impala and lean up against the passenger side door, one of Dean’s hands on Cas’s lower back and the other on his cheek as he kissed him before their drive home.

Once home, they changed again went right back to their earlier position beneath the blanket in front of the big screen. Mockingjay: Part Two was up and playing on screen, Cas’s head was on Dean’s chest, his hand resting on Dean’s stomach. Dean had one arm draped lazily over Cas’s shoulder and his thumb was rubbing up and down on Cas’s bare arm.

When it came to the epilogue of the final movie, Dean found himself feeling things that he usually avoided. He found that he could identify with Katniss in it; Katniss had gone through something traumatic, a war, and lost people she loved and along the way, she gained some new people and lost many of those too. Yet, still, she came out the other side and though she’d never really forget anything she’d been through or lost, she could be happy with what she had.

Dean realized that he should start trying to be happy with what he had, though his war was far from over.

When Cas noticed a tear on Dean’s cheek, he went into a panic and his eyes immediately filled with his own. His hand snapped onto Dean’s cheek as if pulled by a magnet, his thumb wiping the wet track away.

‘Dean,’ he said softly, ‘don’t.’

‘Cas,’ Dean started, in a rough, thick voice, pushing himself out of his half-laying position. Cas’s hand slid downwards as Dean slid up, and Cas hastened to sit up and face him. ‘Do you think … that there could ever be a happy ending … for us?’

Cas’s mind flashed back to the image recently on the screen. Katniss, with an infant, Peeta in the distance with a child. Trees in the background, flowers in the meadow. A world finally at peace. It was the peace Cas knew Dean meant, surely, although complete peace hardly seemed likely … a life free of being directly targeted by demons, by angels, by a number of other threats, however … maybe. But a future, a future beyond just the simple knowledge of safety and peace, peace and safety … a future involving the previously discussed “long run” surely wasn’t what Dean was referencing, although with all the unveiled sides of Dean these days it was hard to be sure.

Either way, Cas’s answer was the same.

‘I believe that you can achieve any happy ending that you set your sights upon.’

‘And you?’ Dean asked, his voice steadier, but his eyes somewhat sad. ‘I said _us_. Not me.’

Dean paused, acting as though he was pausing for breath, but Castiel could see he was gathering himself. When Dean continued on, the sadness was gone from his eyes, but was replaced by a look of utmost solemnity, but not the harsh, ominous kind … the determination kind, the kind that told Cas that this was a question that Dean had wanted to ask, but had never dared ask, for who knew how long.

‘What’s your happy ending, Cas?’

It didn’t take much thought. In fact, it didn’t take any.

‘My happy ending is whatever yours is.’

Cas said it decidedly. He noticed now that Dean seemed to be nervous, almost struggling, with his thoughts and with his words. Dean swallowed, looking down, away from Cas as though he feared the answer to his next question.

‘How do you know?’ he asked eventually.

Castiel frowned.

‘I don’t understand the question.’

‘How do you know that you want what I want?’ Dean asked, seeming to regret the speed of which his answer came, slowing down as he explained, as best he could: ‘I mean, come on Cas. I’ve said it before. We’re different. You’ve been fighting all these heavenly battlers all your life, living in all this angelic glory and what not … you’ve only been involved with people – real people, people you’ve managed to form relationships with – for seven years. Seven years out of all the years you’ve been alive. And even in those seven years, you haven’t had anything even close to resembling what’s normal. What most people end up with in the end … that’s not for you. Or even for me, no matter what I – I mean –’

Dean cut himself off, taking a deep breath again, steadying himself, avoiding blurting out things that would seem completely out of character and out of the blue for him, and risk scaring Cas off when Dean really needed more of an answer from him. He steadied himself again.

‘We’re not like other people,’ Dean tried his best to explain, ‘and I’m not like other people either, but I’m more like them than you are, if you catch my drift. You and me, neither of us were raised in what’s normal. You weren’t _raised_ at all. But I’ve seen it around me all my life, you’ve been around it seven years. Well, closer to seven and a half I guess. But the point still stands – and it’s only in the most recent few years gone by that you’ve been even close to understanding why people live the way they do.

‘I’ve been here a lifetime. You’ve been here a minute in a never-ending day that’s been going on for a thousand years. You can’t possibly know you want things to end the way I want them to, when you don’t even know how I want things to end.’

The words hurt Cas. He wasn’t going to avoid admitting that to himself. To think that after all they’d been through, after all this time, and after all that had finally been said and done, that Dean still underestimated him and thought of him as something different to the rest of the people in his life, when he, Castiel, saw more and understood more than anyone else he knew, _because_ of the short span of years he’d been here, thrust into it all unexpectedly, forced to deal with things no other angel had ever needed to …

‘Metatron once asked me what my mission was, you know,’ Cas stated thoughtfully, looking over Dean to see how he reacted. When Dean barely even raised his eyebrows, he continued. ‘On the day I got my grace back. He asked me what it was now that I didn’t seem to have one, and I thought I didn’t answer him because I didn’t know. It turns out, however, that I didn’t answer him because I _did_ know, but I knew he wouldn’t understand.’

Castiel kept an air of collective coolness in his statement. When he’d finished, Dean frowned.

‘What do you mean he wouldn’t understand?’ Dean asked. ‘What’s your mission?’

‘ _You_ are my mission, Dean Winchester.’

Dean regretted his blatant inquiry into what Cas’s mission was instantly, wishing he’d asked it in a way that was gentler, more suited to what the answer was and how Cas moved forward when he said it, onto his knees, leaning towards Dean and taking both of Dean’s hands in his own. The sincerity and devotion in Cas’s eyes, in his smile, the stars swimming in the blue and the knowledge that Dean now also knew true that he definitely, definitely did not understand just how much Castiel meant every word he said, without restraint.

‘I want to be with you,’ Cas stated. ‘I want to fight with you, through all the bad stuff like Amara and whatever other things like her may pop up. And I want to fight with you through all the good things even though I know that’s a completely different kind of fight.’

‘I still want Sam to go to college,’ Dean said far too quickly for his own liking.

‘That’s good,’ Castiel encouraged. ‘Then I want that too.’

‘And I want him to have some kind of life if we actually manage to get out of this shit storm,’ Dean followed up. ‘Like before. When he was in Stanford, and he had a girlfriend, and he was going to have a family and a job – he should have that.’

‘You always put Sam first,’ Castiel acknowledged, an admiring smile coming over him. ‘Years ago I wouldn’t have understood why. Now I do.’

‘Good,’ said Dean, shakiness creeping into his voice. ‘Because that’s what I want too. Not – not the college degree and the fancy job –’ he clarified quickly, ‘but I want … what other people have. I sort of had it once, and it was good, but there was always something missing … because I knew this wasn’t finished.’ He swallowed, squeezing Cas’s hands as he gained confidence. ‘ _I_ wasn’t finished. I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, or with who I was supposed to be with and this _fight_ wasn’t over. Sam was gone, you were gone, and that’s not how it’s supposed to end. We’re either supposed to win this war or go down swingin’ and _then_ I can be finished. Then I can have that ending – I can have a _future_ with _someone_ and a purpose that’s more than just killing monsters and dealing with demon crap.’ Dean slowed down as he came to a finis with a few spaced out final words. ‘Do you … do you know what I mean?’

There was no pause, no time to think, because Castiel didn’t need to think or to consider. He knew what Dean was saying, and knew that that wouldn’t change his answer. Dean was saying he wanted what normal people had; a normal job, a family, something to come home to every day besides a creepy old bunker with chains and a dungeon, a moose of a brother and a formerly constantly trenchcoated ex-angel. And he understood that Dean knew he’d understand what he was saying, but wouldn’t force him to put it into specific terms that would just make him uncomfortable and quiet, probably leading to a night of discomfort and not … speaking …

Holy fucking hell.

Dean had come close to admitting these things before, Cas realized, and it had led to them falling asleep in anger and getting up separately and feeling guilty the next morning, followed by a reconciliation and enlightening talk by the sink while doing dishes …

 _These_ were the things that Dean had thought Cas couldn’t possibly want, because he was an _angel_ , even if he was technically graceless and human …

‘I would give up my grace for you,’ Castiel stated.

‘Come again?’

‘I’d give up my grace for you,’ Cas repeated. ‘If I still had any, and we got the point where we could see that happy ending. I’d give it up so I could stay with you as long as you lived and grow old by your side, because that’s what I want. I want that and everything that comes along with it.

‘I don’t have a past,’ Cas realized the truth in the statement, shuffling forward, still on his knees, to come to a stop right by Dean’s side. He moved one leg to the other side of Dean’s legs, so that he was kneeling over him and a little above him, but their faces were close. ‘But what I’ve come to realize, what you’ve _made_ me come to realize, is that I want a future. And I want it with you.’

Cas’s arms were around Dean’s neck now and Dean put his own around Cas’s waist. Cas had already said it in not so many words more than once, but Dean had refused to believe that Cas really knew what he was saying. Yet he did, he knew exactly what he was saying and what it meant and he was ready for it, as ready as Dean was, to fight for what they could someday hope to attain.

‘Then I’ll tell you what,’ Dean decided determinedly. ‘Tomorrow, we’re going to look for some cases to work while we wait for news on Amara, God, the angels, whatever. And we’ll work ’em and we’ll save all the people we can. And we’ll keep doing that until our biggest battle is won and we don’t have to anymore and let someone else take care of the little things for a change. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ Cas nodded eagerly.

‘And right now, we’re going to watch a parody of a movie and then we’re gonna go out there and see if Sam and Aroura are still up. And if they are, we’re gonna grab ourselves a half hour with the dog they’ve been hogging all day and then we’re going to bed to a good night’s sleep before we continue the fight tomorrow. You down with that?’

‘I’m down,’ Castiel confirmed.

‘Good,’ Dean said, as boldly and commandingly as his last two declarations had been said. ‘Now grab that remote and play that parody before it ends too late and we’ve missed our chance to get you some time with the dog.’

Cas kissed Dean once, climbed off of him and repositioned himself at Dean’s side. Dean’s head slumped sideways onto Cas’s shoulder as Cas, like Dean had requested, set the parody to play.

The parody was stuffed full of references to various things in pop culture, some of which had to be explained to Cas, but for the most part he got the gist and spent most of the parody laughing along with Dean, at some points with his hands on Dean’s arms trying to steady him as Dean fell sideways in his laughter, burying his face in Cas’s shoulder in an otiose attempt to stifle it.

The mood was certainly lighter on the other side of the parody, once the credits began rolling after the hilarious bloopers reel that was shown once the actual parody movie had ended. Dean reached for his phone and checked the time, expecting tenish, when he was astounded to see that it was after midnight.

‘How the fuck did that happen?’ Dean asked rhetorically, frowning at his phone screen.

‘The earth continued to rotate on its axis like it tends to do, therefore time passed,’ Castiel replied, Dean gasping at once that it was a joke and rolling his eyes at it, causing Cas to smile and then try for an explanation, ‘I think we underestimated the length of the movie, parody and the talk we had in intermission between the two.’

‘So much for getting time with the dog and then getting a long night of sleep,’ Dean muttered, putting his phone back on his bedside table and turning off the television with the other hand. ‘Guess we’d better turn in. I’ll hit the lights.’

Dean heaved himself off the bed, stiff after staying in one position for so long, and meandered over to the light switch. As he glanced back over at Cas when he reached the switch, he saw Cas had removed his (Dean’s) sweat pants but not his t-shirt and was scrambling under the covers without getting off of the bed. Once the light was out, Dean similarly dropped his sweats and climbed in next to Cas, reaching for him in the darkness and his hands making contact with bare waist where the t-shirt had ridden up and Cas had not yet had the chance to pull it down. Dean did so for him, gently, smoothing it out under the covers and then running his hands downwards over the side Cas was not laying on, over his hips, followed by his upper thigh, a gentle stroke downwards that made Cas pull himself closer to Dean and bury his face in his chest. 

‘I had a good day today,’ Castiel stated brightly, his voice muffled by the proximity of his mouth to Dean’s shirt.

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dean agreed wrapping his arms around Cas securely and shifting his legs into a more comfortable position. The position he desired was one leg more stretched out in front of him than the other but still bent at the knee, which caused his leg to bump into Cas’s legs which were pressed together, bent together and at a slight angle. Dean wedged one of his leg’s between Cas’s, moved their lower bodies even closer, and continued, ‘we should do this again some time. Movies, dinner, or whatever.’

‘I agree,’ came the muffled reply. ‘On the next day we take off, maybe. We could find something to watch. Or somewhere to go. Or something to do. And we could do it together.’

‘That sounds nice,’ Dean contemplated, his eyes open and staring into dark nothingness where shapes were coming into focus as his eyes adjusted to the darkness but unseeing, seeing more of what was on his mind than what was surrounding him.

‘We’ll have plenty of time to do things together in the future,’ Cas pointed out.

‘Yeah, we will,’ Dean nodded, tearing his eyes away from the hazy world they were attempting to stare into and keeping his focus back on this one, looking down at the top of Cas’s head and bending his neck so his lips were close enough to make contact with the dark mass of messy hair, made messier by the times Cas’s head had been in a position today where Dean could freely and easily run his fingers through it. They let out mutual sighs, Dean’s relaxing him, as he said, ‘ _our_ future.’

‘Our future,’ Cas corrected himself unnecessarily. ‘The future that we will one day share in which we can watch all the movies we want while we wait for updates from Sam on the status of his university course and his engagement, while our dog resides on a specially made bed on the floor next to ours.’

Dean blinked once in the darkness.

‘We’re not getting our own dog.’

‘Fine, our cat, then,’ Castiel reasoned. ‘Although cats are smaller than dogs and tend to keep more to themselves, so perhaps two cats would be better than one if we were to have cats instead of a dog.’

‘… Go back to dog …’

Castiel laughed into Dean’s chest, Dean joining in quietly. The laughter soon faded, replaced once more by mutual sighs of contentment, satisfaction, relaxation. Castiel shifted, moving higher up so his face was even with Dean’s and they were almost nose to nose.

‘One small dog groomed and washed regularly to avoid the smell of dog and to avoid excessive shedding,’ said Cas.

‘But that would just turn the smell of dog into the smell of _wet_ dog.’

‘I hear there’s pleasantly scented shampoo made specifically for dogs.’

‘And who’s going to wash this dog?’

‘I am,’ Cas declared, ‘and I’ll brush it, and tie ribbons in its fur, and buy new ribbons when it loses the old ones while running around outside, but I’ll pretend they’re the same ribbons so you won’t get mad about me wasting so much time making sure the dog has ribbons because it’s an animal and animals don’t require ribbons nor do they care if they have them or not.’

‘And I’ll know they’re new because they’re always slightly different and you think I don’t pay attention but I do, but I’ll act like I believe you because the dog makes you happy and you make me happy …’

‘And I’ll know you know, but I’ll pretend I don’t because getting to see you happy makes me happy in return …’

‘… and we’ll live in perfect confusing harmony over dogs and ribbons, but I’ll secretly tell Sam about it and act like it bugs me.’

‘Meanwhile, Sam will know it doesn’t bug you in the slightest, but pretend to agree because he’s a good brother.’

‘And I’ll suspect he doesn’t agree, but I won’t say anything either because _I’m_ a good brother.’

There was a pause. Cas’s eyes were closed although he was smiling, yet it was a sleepy smile. Dean’s smile was adoring, seeing how Cas had so quickly gone from completely awake to in great need of sleep, and he waited for Cas to gather his thoughts.

‘And … that is how it will go,’ Cas finished lamely in the end.

‘What an anti-climax,’ Dean commented sarcastically.

‘Shut up,’ Cas complained, mimicking how Dean frequently said it. ‘I’m tired.’

‘Then go the fuck to sleep,’ Dean suggested.

‘I’ll go the fuck to sleep,’ Cas decided.

He lightly kissed the tip of Dean’s nose once, the easiest thing to reach, and turned onto his side facing away from him. He lazily grabbed one of his pillows and put it in front of him to wrap his arms around and felt one of Dean’s arms drape over him from behind, legs sliding back together and entangling once again after the separation in movement. A couple of minutes of listing to Dean’s slow, even breathing behind him, and then Cas was asleep.

And dreaming for the first time.

Well, actually, it was more of a nightmare.

The first thing Cas registered was Dean, next to him, sleeping soundly and looking peaceful. Castiel smiled, his happiness and warmth short lasting, as an uncomfortable feeling crept over him, making a slight chill go through his veins. He sat up, looked forward, and the cause of his discomfort was obvious. 

‘Castiel.’

Nothing more than the sound of her voice and a silhouette in the darkness, but the knowledge of all the souls she’d taken, the trouble she’d caused, _the Dean she’d kissed_ , came flooding into his head and he had, not for the first time though it did happen rarely, an overwhelming urge to punch her in the face.

‘Dean,’ said Cas hurriedly, well aware of the woman with a face that reminded him of a skull with features and hair watching him. ‘ _Dean_.’

When Dean didn’t awake, a panic stuck up in Castiel’s chest that she’d done something to him but … no. He was breathing, he was unmarked, he was sleeping. And she was watching, with a blank expression.

‘He won’t wake,’ she said softly from the end of the bed. She began walking around to Cas’s side of it and he immediately got out, forgetting how little he was wearing, though she didn’t seem to notice nor care. ‘He’s not really here. Just the image of him in your memory of what this room looks like wh–’

‘When I’m awake,’ Castiel cut her off, finishing for her. A tight smile contorted her features. ‘I’m dreaming,’ he stated.

‘And what first dream to have,’ Amara said softly, reaching out a hand to trail a finger up his arm, a tactic she used to draw her victims in. Castiel stepped away from her.

‘Don’t touch me,’ he snapped, taking a step back.

She took a step forward.

‘Contact is required for me if I’m going to do what I came here to do,’ Amara stated simply, reaching out for him again. He slapped her hand away from him in mid-air. ‘You see, in dreams, the dreamer may not be awake those physically present but not truly within the world of the dream, but those visiting the dreamer can certainly harm the dreamer in ways that will change him when he awakes.’

‘If you touch me …’ Castiel hesitated, knowing he couldn’t, didn’t know how, wasn’t armed, ‘I’ll kill you,’ he declared, sounding as though he meant it.

‘You won’t kill me,’ she said softly, reaching for him again. This time, though it repulsed him, he caught her arm in mid-air and held it by the wrist, keeping her hand where it was. If she was stronger than him, she didn’t try to overpower him. ‘Not when I do what it is I’m going to do to you which will finally give me the power I need to continue my mission.’

‘Your mission?’ Castiel asked stiffly, his grip not loosening, her arm not moving.

‘It is my goal to overthrow my brother and make him pay for what he has done to me,’ she stated. ‘But he and the angels he set upon me have weakened me. I must consume the soul of another angel if I wish to be strong enough to accomplish that goal.’

Castiel swallowed. He glanced over at Dean’s form, thankful that Dean, at least, wasn’t truly here, and looked back at Amara, afraid, but trying not to let it show. He became aware of the fact that this was in fact the first time he’d ever come face to face with Amara, yet at the same time he’d known exactly who she was as soon as he saw her. The thought unnerved him.

‘That’s unfortunate,’ he said evenly. ‘As I am no longer an angel …’ then, remembering something from days past, ‘nor do angels have true souls.’

‘And you see, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Amara corrected him. ‘It’s true, most angels do not have true souls. But some, over time, develop souls that shine brighter and stronger than the soul of any human and, angel or not, the soul resides within them until the day they die. Though they will not die instantly were the soul to be taken, fortunately for you.’

Panic. That’s what was running through him now, but he kept his composure calm. There was nowhere to run to inside his own head, and he wasn’t in control here clearly; she was taking over his mind as he slept, without there being a thing he could do about it. His only strategy was to … keep her talking as he struggled to wake up? Maybe? He thought it was his best shot.

‘Why would you want to overthrow God?’ Castiel asked her, the pure vision of curiosity, although truly he didn’t care what her motive was, as long as she could be stopped.

‘He locked me away,’ she stated, as if it was the most obvious reason. ‘And then he locked me away again. And his angels locked me away. All he’s ever done is _lock me away_ and I’ve had it. It’s _my_ turn to lock _him_ away so I can get rid of everything and start over.’

‘Start over?’ he probed. ‘You mean … recreate humanity?’

‘Something along those lines,’ Amara drawled, as if it bored her. ‘Delete the universe. Create a new one again from scratch. I’ll even create a new you, if you’re lucky and I’m feeling generous. And a new Dean, of course. To sit by my side and rule over all.’

‘Dean would never sit by your side,’ Cas snapped bitterly, dropping her arm violently, shoving it away from him.

‘Don’t be so sure,’ Amara warned, suddenly stern. ‘Dean and I are connected. We have a bond.’

Amara pulled back part of her clothing to reveal the Mark of Cain close to her shoulder, clearly visible even in the limited light. Another cold chill ran through Cas at the sight of the mark that had been burned into Dean’s arm, plaguing him for so long. He felt ill, like he could actually be sick, but knew he couldn’t show weakness.

‘So what,’ he spat. ‘Dean no longer bears that mark. You and Dean have no bond. Dean and _I_ share a profound bond that was created the day I laid a hand on his soul in hell.’

‘Oh, please,’ Amara sighed, rolling her eyes at him and folding her arms across her chest. ‘Dean is the one who _freed_ me. That counts for so much more. Dean _will_ be at my side. Voluntarily, well, that’s another matter …’

Castiel felt something twist inside him and he had a sudden urge to punch her again. Hard. But that would only make things worse. Besides, she was a woman or at least presenting as one, and for some reasons humans, instead of teaching people “don’t hit anyone,” instead focused on “don’t hit a woman.”

‘You’re sick,’ Castiel declared, forcing his words out like he was coughing up venom.

‘Enough chat,’ Amara groaned. ‘I’m hungry. And you have everything I need to satisfy that hunger.’

Amara stepped forward, and Castiel found himself having nowhere to go as he collided with the bedside table. His first instinct was to defend himself, and to do that he had to run. He doubted he could get out of the room, but the least he could do was try. He dove sideways onto the bed, next to the physically but not actually present Dean, and stood. He stood on the bed and attempted to run across it, but fell, falling against Dean. Amara was right on top of him and the last thought he could muster was to bury his face into the sleeping form and hope for the best for when he awoke.

Maybe he wouldn’t be any different without a soul, he’d always thought he didn’t have a true soul anyway, everyone did, Dean himself had said it …

He wondered if the flash of light was his soul leaving his body, but he didn’t feel any different …

And there was screaming, a woman screaming, and Dean was moving …

Cas rolled onto his back feeling Dean awake next to him. They locked eyes, then both turned back to blinding light filling the room, vaguely registering Sam rushing into the doorway as they attempted to see around the light, which suddenly reached peak brightness and then burst, Dean and Cas diving into each other to avoid anything the explosion it brought.

For a moment, Cas could’ve sworn he saw Emerald, the woman in white from the murder and resurrection ritual that led to Lucifer’s death.


	29. Ribboned Dogs and Poltergeisteous Cats

It was just like the last time. Like Lucifer’s death, but with less fighting and more confusion. Amara was just … gone. In a burst of light. And Dean and Cas were left staring, astounded, at the spot in which she’d just occupied. Sam was still in the doorway looking completely shellshocked. Meanwhile, whoever it was that had gotten rid of Amara, The Savior that was supposed to manifest when the time came, was nowhere to be seen. After several moments of silence, Castiel was the one who broke it.

‘Am I awake?’ he questioned, looking between Sam and Dean tentatively. He became aware of the fact that he was under the covers, yet he distinctly remembered being on top of them when he’d made the decision to huddle into Dean.

‘I think so,’ Dean said uneasily, slowly releasing his arms from around Cas where he’d thrown them while witnessing the glowing light.

‘You’re awake,’ said Sam, walking into the room and switching the light on as he went. ‘Or at least _I’m_ awake. I heard screaming and I came running. Was that …’

‘Amara?’ Dean finished for him, swallowing nervously. ‘Yeah.’

‘She was in my head,’ Castiel recalled, clear as day, as if it had happened when he was awake. ‘I was dreaming. And she was there. And then she … was there.’

He pointed weakly, his hand shaky, at where the main source of the light had been coming from at the end of the bed.

‘She was in your head?’ Sam inquired, rushing forward to sit on the end of the bed and stare him in the eyes. ‘Like Lucifer was in mine?’

‘I assume so,’ Castiel nodded, still shaken but gaining more confidence now. ‘She told me I was dreaming. And then she revealed her plan. She wanted …’ he hesitated, glancing sideways at Dean and then breaking eye contact with them both, ‘my soul.’

‘Your soul,’ Dean repeated, unquestioning.

‘She said that angels can develop them over time,’ Cas rushed to explain, ‘and that they were more powerful than the soul of a human. She needed mine for strength so she could overthrow God after she was weakened by his angels.’

‘Overthrow God?’ asked Sam.

‘She wanted to delete and then recreate the universe. But now …’

‘She’s dead,’ Dean stated flatly, not sounding particularly joyous.

‘It would appear so,’ Castiel confirmed.

‘But she can’t be,’ Dean denied, shaking his head. ‘She can’t be dead. It … it’s not like that. It’s not that easy. It can’t be that simple.’

‘You said the same about Lucifer,’ Cas reminded him.

‘But we saw him die,’ Dean insisted. ‘We saw The Holy One explode him. And then we saw Sam and Aroura talking about it when she turned back into Aroura. But where is she now?’

‘Right here.’

The voice was quiet, and it came from behind Sam. She walked around him timidly, keeping her eyes on Dean.

‘What the hell was that?’ he asked her.

‘The Savior sensed the presence of The Darkness,’ Aroura stated in a calm voice, ‘even through the walls of Castiel’s subconscious. And she manifested, broke through those walls and pulled The Darkness from within, and then destroyed The Darkness for good. Afterwards, The Savior vanished and went back a stage into The Holy One, to go and inform God of the good news and arrange a longer meeting for a later date.’

‘God?’ Sam asked.

‘Yes,’ Aroura answered. ‘I told you about him and The Holy One. He needed to be informed of the end that The Darkness met.’

‘And?’ Dean prompted.

‘He’s satisfied with it,’ Aroura shrugged. ‘And now it’s over.’

‘What’s over?’ Cas asked.

‘The chain reaction of biblical and pre-biblical crisis that began with The Darkness being locked away at the beginning of time and ended with her demise at the hands of The Savior who is then free to move on and live as any one of people she became on her path to becoming The Savior.’

‘You,’ Sam presumed.

‘Yes,’ Aroura confirmed. ‘It’s over. The Darkness is no more. It’s that simple. The tasks that seem as though they should require the most difficult tasks to bring about the end tend to turn out to be those that have ends that are easiest to come by.’

‘Why should we trust you?’ Dean challenged, seeing Sam frown at him from behind Aroura’s back, Aroura standing very close to Cas and Dean in bed now.

‘Because you saw me kill Lucifer and this is almost the same thing,’ Aroura said simply. ‘You don’t have to worry about The Darkness anymore. You can just get on with your lives like you did before her. Now,’ she said, turning away from them, ‘I’m going to bed. It’s late. I hope you sleep better now that she’s dead. Goodnight.’

Aroura walked out of the room without looking back, leaving three sets of eyes to watch her exit. Sam looked back at Dean and Cas, who looked wary, and shrugged at them.

‘It’s that simple,’ he quoted, getting to his feet. ‘Night guys.’

‘You’re just going to go to bed after … all _that_?’ Dean protested, staring at Sam in utter disbelief.

‘I don’t see you getting up,’ Sam shrugged again. ‘Later.’

Sam walked out of the room without another word, just like Aroura had. Dean looked at Cas, who was still staring at the door Sam had closed behind him. Slowly, Castiel turned to meet Dean’s gaze, looking a mixture of confused and uncomfortable.

‘She was in my head,’ he stated blankly, still sounding as though he couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

‘And now she’s dead,’ Dean added in the same way. He frowned deeply, the cogs ticking in his brain, as he continued, ‘and we didn’t even have to lift a finger.’

‘But … what do we do tomorrow?’ Cas asked, unable to comprehend, it couldn’t be over and done with like that …

‘Feel like working a case?’ Dean suggested emptily, nothing else coming to mind.

‘I guess so …’

‘We’ll see what happens.’

‘Yeah …’

Dean wordlessly got out of bed and went to turn off the light, his mind in a state of dizziness. He remembered the light so clearly and seeing Amara in it and then vanishing, yet the room was unchanged as if it hadn’t even happened … he stared at the spot on the way to turning the light off and back, like suddenly something was going to pop up out of the floor …

‘It’s really over,’ Cas said quietly, when Dean silently climbed back in beside him. ‘It’s _over_.’

‘And there was no new threat unleashed by it,’ Dean realized. ‘There’s no new big threat to face. There’s just … normal stuff. Normal for us at least. Stuff to hunt but no world to save …’

There was a pause.

‘I can’t remember what it was like before,’ Cas admitted. ‘Before every save led to another mess to clean up. I’m trying, but …’

‘There never has been for you,’ Dean pointed out. ‘At least with us. It started with trying to prevent the apocalypse and went on from there, that’s all it’s ever been …’

‘What do you mean?’ Cas asked.

‘Think about it,’ said Dean. ‘You pulled me out of hell. We tried to prevent the apocalypse. We tried to stop it. We did, Sam went in the hole with Lucifer, Sam got resurrected, there was that whole thing with Crowley and the alphas and opening purgatory, then there was the Leviathans and Dick Roman and the tablets, then we were in purgatory, then _you_ were in purgatory, more tablet crap, closing up hell, that thing with you and Naomi, then Sam was possessed by Gadreel but we thought it was Ezekiel, there was Abbadon and Metatron and the Mark of Cain, I was a demon, we tried to get rid of the mark, The Darkness got out, there was that and Lucifer and both of those things are gone now … and now there’s nothing.’

Silence followed Dean’s listing. The two of them stared, side by side, at the ceiling. It was hard to say how much time passed, a minute, five, ten or more, until Castiel finally spoke.

‘You have an impressive memory.’

‘Well it’s hard to forget things when you spent every day trying to save the world and keep yourself alive.’

The silence fell again. Cas tried to find a gap between all of the things Dean had listed, a small window where they hadn’t had something heavier weighing over their heads, but all of it seemed to be intertwined. One threat overlapping the next and the last, many of them related, blowing up in their own way. There one loose tie from the list was Metatron, but he was a pathetic human now … maybe the angels now resurrected by God could be something, but they were angels, good ones, so they were hardly something to be worried about …

There was nothing else they had to do …

But …

‘There’s not nothing,’ Castiel corrected, as the thought dawned upon him.

‘What do you mean?’ Dean asked, turning to look at him although his look wasn’t being returned.

‘There always seemed to be an overall continuing story to go along with in our lives,’ Castiel explained, his eyes still on the ceiling. ‘Like in a series of books. Each book has a new storyline, caused by or tied in with the last in the series. It was an easy transition, a domino effect if you will, with the storylines of each of the movies we watched today – or yesterday, technically – how they were all part of one story but each had a story of their own …’

‘What are you saying, Cas?’

‘I’m saying that although our book series, or our movie series, may be over, it doesn’t mean that life stops going on.’

Castiel sat straight up, turning to face Dean who was half-sitting up his pillow and the headboard. Dean looked at him expectantly, assuming that Cas wasn’t finished, noting some elation creeping into his expression.

‘There’s always time between the end of a series and the epilogue of it. Similarly, the epilogue isn’t the end either. Life continues after the epilogue, there’s no _ending_. Any series can continue for an infinite amount of time, unless the series explicitly ends with every single character in it dying.’

‘So you’re saying we’re not finished, we’re just …?’

‘In the time between the end of a story and what can be seen as an epilogue. But no story is ever truly _over_. We’ve just reached the end of the notable stuff that can go into the books and/or movies.’

Dean started to smile at him, seeing Cas’s slight smile start to brighten at the sight of Dean’s, but then Dean’s slid off again.

‘I don’t get it.’

Cas sighed, rolling his eyes at Dean’s confusion.

‘You said there’s nothing left, correct?’

‘… Correct, I guess.’

‘I’m saying there’s not nothing,’ Cas laid out as simply as he could. ‘There’s much left to discover on another path. What’s going to happen now. Will a new threat come about and cause our series to warrant a revival? Will things go in a completely new direction? How will this whole thing with Sam an Aroura pan out? Will the two of us eventually go on another date? Exactly how much hair will it take for Shrek to shed before you kick him out? What case will we find tomorrow, shape shifters, werewolves, or something new and unhunted by you or Sam so far? _These_ are the kinds of things to be taken into consideration now, Dean.’

Dean listened carefully to everything Cas had to say, watching Cas’s excitement and alertness. It was the middle of the night, but it was like Cas had just ingested thirty gallons of coffee that had woken him up. This, Dean figured, was how Cas’s happiness about Amara’s abrupt end was shining through and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘I guess we’ll find out,’ he said, clapping Cas on the upper arm once and sliding downwards into a more comfortable position. ‘Now go back to sleep, Cas. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.’

Castiel did as he was told and lay back down, on his back. Dean, who’s tiredness and overthinking was overshadowing his joy at the fact that Amara had been dealt with, was feeling sleepy and he immediately turned, facing Cas’s side where Cas was now on his back, and draped an arm over him.

‘Oh, and for the record,’ Dean added, speaking into Cas’s shoulder, ‘there’ll be a second date.’

‘Good,’ Castiel replied, absentmindedly trailing a finger up and down the arm that was draped over him, ‘because I enjoyed the first one.’

‘Mhm,’ Dean acknowledged.

Cas, not wanting to disturb the clearly sleepy Dean, didn’t reply.

Waking up into a world where the biggest threat was more likely to be Donald Trump than any of the demons messing around wreaking havoc for fun in small towns now that there was no true villain they had to tackle wasn’t something Dean was used to. He half expected it to feel different, for the world to be brighter somehow, but just like every morning there was a small amount of light penetrating the room, the brightness of which didn’t seem to have increased or decreased more than it naturally would depending on the weather outside.

Castiel was curled on his side, still sleeping despite his energy last night talking about stories and their endings and their not-actually endings. Despite his initial confusion last night, Dean was starting to get it. Lucifer was dead. Amara was dead. It was that simple despite it never being so. It’s not like he had any evidence to prove anything otherwise. And even though they were dead now, there was still shit to do. Life would go on. It wasn’t as though everything was about to change into something completely different …

Dean lay back and watched Cas for a while. He frequently thought the angel, former angel, whatever looked peaceful while seeping. Today he looked even more so, especially after yesterday. Movies, dinner, an evil bitch dying … that warranted another day off, didn’t it? They’d already had two which seemed sufficient, but still … there’d been much longer breaks before, after something extreme. He and Sam had taken weeks off before, and this, really, was only another day …

It wasn’t weird, right? The idea that had struck him? And he wasn’t – for want of a better word – _spoiling_ Cas with all of this stuff he was doing for him. Seven years of not being able to do anything for him surely allowed some time to give him things he’d never had, even a month into the relationship which was admittedly a little late for it, but then again they’d been busy …

It wasn’t exactly the first time in the past month or so that they’d be doing something spontaneous. December through January had been a wild ride of unexpected occurrences. If they could go shopping together at Hot Topic and Ikea, spend Christmas with friends and play board games, spend a day in bed watching movies and go on a date, they could damn well take another day to do something out of the ordinary for them, or quite likely completely ordinary for other people.

Dean rolled onto his side, staring at Cas who had turned away from him in the night. He couldn’t see much, just the movement of his breathing as he stared at his back. He didn’t want to wake him, but then again, he didn’t want to _not_ wake him and risk forgetting about the thought that occurred to him. If he woke him gently, soothingly, in a way that someone would want to be awakened … yeah, that’d do it.

Dean moved himself right up against Cas’s back, propped himself up on his elbow and slithered his other arm over Cas’s waist and under his arm resting on his side. Cas’s hand was curled into his chest and Dean found it, taking it in his, stroking his thumb across it. He dipped his head down and kissed along Cas’s shoulder, up to his neck and his head until his lips were by Cas’s ear.

‘Hey,’ he whispered softly. He kissed the tip of Cas’s ear as Cas stirred. ‘Wake up, sleepy head. I’ve got something to run by you.’

Cas awoke slowly and groggily, his hand automatically clamping onto Dean’s when he realized Dean was holding it. He turned onto his back with a slight groan which made Dean chuckle and directed his squinty gaze at the ceiling.

‘Go ahead,’ he directed at Dean.

‘We go somewhere together,’ Dean pitched his suggestion, looking at the squinty Cas to read his expression after the suggestion. ‘Like you and Sam did the day before yesterday.’

‘Where?’ Castiel asked curiously, turning his head so that his adjusting-but-still-pretty-squinty gaze was on Dean now.

Dean shrugged.

‘Somewhere there’s places to go for lunch. Maybe pet stores so you can freak out over rats and snakes and whatever the hell else they sell.’

‘Do you know anywhere?’

‘Nowhere close by,’ said Dean. ‘We could go up to Nebraska though. Lincoln’s less than three hours away and it’s a city so there’s probably pet stores.’

‘There doesn’t _have_ to be pet stores, Dean,’ Castiel said seriously as he hauled himself upwards. ‘It would just be a bonus if there happened to be.’

‘Whatever you say, buddy,’ Dean chuckled, clapping Cas on the shoulder and swinging his legs out of bed. ‘Whatever you say.’

The fact that their morning routine was ritual was comforting. It was a lot better than Dean’s old one of getting up, showering half asleep (if he showered before breakfast, that was) and then searching out leftovers in the fridge before he loaded up on coffee to finally give him the jump start he needed to deal with his fresh-faced, alert and probably-jogged-this-morning brother who wasn’t always tolerant of Dean’s slow wake-up state.

However these days, Dean woke up groggy and was fully alert in a matter of minutes thanks to the joy waking up next to Cas brought him, so he could enjoy all the things the morning brought. The mornings were, at times, the best part of the day since they involved close proximity, casual touching whenever and simply existing together in harmony as they prepared for whatever the day had in store.

As was usual, Sam was already up. As was most likely unusual for these days, Aroura was not. Dean poured himself and Cas some coffee and they slid in across from Sam who was eating something that looked a lot like sawdust with bits of berries in it that was probably some breakfast health crap that tasted like sawdust too but those who are it would always claim it didn’t.

‘Morning,’ Sam greeted semi-cheerfully.

‘Where’s Aroura?’ was Dean’s first concern. Usually he wouldn’t be as curious and upfront, but taking last night’s events into consideration it was his first instinct.

‘She had to go check in with … God,’ Sam said slowly, hesitating over the last word as he said it. ‘You know, because of last night. She said they had to arrange a longer meeting and this is it.’

‘Uh huh,’ said Dean. He took a sip of coffee, saying nothing else about what had happened. He’d accepted Amara was dead, he just didn’t like to think about the simplicity of the actual occurrence.

‘Did she mention anything else about the events of last night?’ Castiel asked.

‘Not really,’ said Sam. ‘We talked about it, sure. She said Amara was definitely dead. The Savior had sensed her presence even through walls of consciousness. There was nothing to worry about … what more is there to say?’

‘Perhaps you should have asked her.’

‘No need,’ Sam shrugged. ‘I trust her.’

It was very rare that Sam seemed to trust anyone due to his rocky past with those he trusted being misleading, but considering that Aroura was the one who’d rid the world of Lucifer and of Amara perhaps she was trustworthy, after all. It made both Dean and Castiel wonder about what exactly she’d said and when that made Sam trust her so much. Perhaps it was the thing of her being his first real girlfriend back in his teenage years, or maybe it was just because they’d reconnected now. Whatever the reason, neither one wanted to question him for fear of coming across as suspicious, or defensive, or anything that could invoke an argument.

‘Any plans for today?’ Dean asked, changing the subject.

Sam shrugged.

‘No. I assumed we’d find a case to work. Why, have you got something?’

‘Not a case, no,’ Dean said, somewhat uneasy, hoping that Sam would understand his want to take another day off. ‘I was, uh, thinking about taking another day. You know. Recover from last night. Me and Cas talked about the two of us heading too Lincoln for a couple hours, grab some lunch, walk around or whatever people do when they go places for pleasure and not business.’

Sam’s eyebrows raised slightly, most likely, Dean thought, noting the unusual behavior. Dean paid no attention to it, knowing he didn’t have to defend his actions to Sam’s surprised reaction to them.

‘Yeah, okay,’ Sam said reasonably, ‘I guess we deserve a longer break. We can get back to it tomorrow.’

‘What will you do?’ Castiel asked.

Sam thought about it for a moment.

‘Maybe take Aroura out somewhere when she gets back. I don’t know yet.’

Dean hesitated to ask the next question on his mind, but seeing Sam’s casual expression and his talk of taking Aroura out reminded him exactly of the nature of the relationship between the two of them. Presuming that Sam would understand his curiosities and confusions, Dean went ahead with it.

‘So you two are still a thing?’ he inquired. ‘Even after … you found out that she’s … uh … more than Aroura, let’s say.’

‘Yeah,’ Sam confirmed. ‘We are. And she’s not more than Aroura. She’s just Aroura. Until she leaves for a while. And then Aroura comes back and it’s like she was just out for a walk.’

‘Huh,’ Dean mumbled, thinking it was a pretty logical way of looking at it. Through, personally for him, if he’d been with someone who turned out to be some bad ass savior person who defeated Lucifer and Amara and then had to go off and report back to God, if he knew that the person he was with had gone through many stages, each stage a new person … he knew for a fact that he’d have a harder time with it.

There was a nudging sensation by Dean’s ankle ad he looked down to see Shrek sniffing at his shoe. He raised his eyebrows at the furball, having briefly forgotten he was in the bunker, then noticed a shiny green ribbon on his collar. He smiled to himself, remembering his conversation with Cas about dogs and bows and the future.

‘What’s got you so happy all of a sudden?’ Sam asked, sounding confused, raising his eyebrows at Dean as he noted the smile Dean couldn’t keep at bay.

‘Nothing,’ Dean answered, a soft laugh escaping as he looked down at the dog who suddenly didn’t seem like a shedding, smelly animal wandering around the place where he lived. ‘Hey, Cas, your furry friend is making friends with my shoe. Distract him before he forms an attachment?’

Castiel frowned for a moment before he fully registered what Dean had said, but when he established “furry friend” meant dog, he looked down and his face lit up. He practically dove beneath the table, emerging with his arms full of dog and a wet, pink tongue lapping at his face.

‘I think he likes me,’ Castiel said proudly.

‘Who wouldn’t?’ Dean chuckled. He reached out and scratched Shrek behind the ears momentarily and withdrew his hand. ‘Now get him out of the kitchen before he gets hair in something we’re gonna end up eating.’

Rolling his eyes, Cas rose, dog in arms, and exited the kitchen. As he left Dean heard him muttering, ‘don’t mind him, he doesn’t show much affection unless you’re a large breasted woman or an angel in a trenchcoat.’

‘Did he just – ?’

‘Yeah,’ grinned Sam, laughing now. ‘And he’s right.’ He paused for a moment, then added, fondly, ‘he’s changed.’

Dean glanced at the door, still seeing the image of Cas’s retreating back, hair messed up from putting on various beanies this morning trying to decide whether to wear one or not, dog hair already sticking to his sweater. He smiled at the ghost of him, his heart swelling in his chest as he was overcome with a rush of emotion he couldn’t explain.

‘That’s the thing,’ he replied, his voice warm. ‘I don’t think he has.’ He turned back to Sam, visions of Cas clearly in his mind. ‘I think we’re only just begging to see the real him that he’s had to lock up inside in the face of everything that’s been going on since we met him.’ There was no hesitation, just another memory of Cas’s sleepy, squinty face this morning, before he added, ‘I love him.’

Sam smiled. It was the sappy type of “I’m so happy for you” smile that Dean normally would have hated, but now all he could think about was Cas.

‘I know,’ Sam said softly. ‘I’ve always known.’

Dean immediately frowned. Not because it upset him. But because it confused him.

‘How?’ he asked quietly, blinking dumbfounded at his younger, yet often wiser brother.

‘Because you’ve always looked at him the way I used to look at Jess,’ he stated, simply yet somewhat sadly, and added, happier now, ‘and the way I used to look and still look at Aroura.’

Dean’s mind snapped away from Cas and his eyes snapped back into focus and zoned in Sam’s face.

‘You love her?’ he asked, in disbelief at the fact that he’d come to that conclusion so quickly, and at the fact that they were having this conversation in the first place.

‘Yeah,’ Sam laughed, airy. ‘Yeah Dean, I think I do. And I know what you’re going to say – that we’ve been apart for more time than we were together then and now combined, that she’s complicated, that I barely even understand everything to do with her or whatever – but I do, Dean. I never thought I’d feel like this again, but here I am.’

‘Huh,’ Dean said again. He wasn’t sure what to think. He didn’t know if there was that much to think about. There was clearly no reason to be against it, or to distrust Aroura, so he smiled, looking mildly impressed, and responded, ‘good for you, Sammy. Good for you.’ He held up his almost empty coffee mug. ‘Here’s to us and our freaking girly-ass infatuated states.’

Sam clinked his empty mug fro next to his bowl against Dean’s. Dean drank the last of his coffee and stood up.

‘Infatuated?’ Sam questioned.

‘Spending so much time with Cas is rubbing off on me,’ Dean said jokingly. ‘I’m using big words now. Besides, it’s better than overuse of the l-word. Now let’s cut this subject off and go back to being men, shall we?’

‘Sure,’ Sam laughed. ‘No chick flick moments, right?’

‘Exactly.’

‘But, you know, men talk about feelings too.’

‘And then they stop before it gets weird because they’re brothers who don’t usually discuss these things,’ Dean said slowly, as if talking to a toddler, but jokingly, as he picked up Cas’s almost-empty abandoned cup.

‘You started it,’ Sam pointed out.

‘ _You_ started it with the whole “he’s changed” thing,’ Dean rectified, walking over to the sink to deal with the cups while Sam headed over to pour himself the last of the coffee he’d made. ‘So don’t try to pin the blame on me.’

There were footsteps that sounded for seconds before Cas appeared in the doorway with Shrek. Dean looked up from the cups to the slightly uncomfortable looking Cas.

‘I think someone should take him outside,’ he stated somewhat darkly. ‘He’s whining and shifting uncomfortably and the area in which I presume his bladder resides is swollen.’

‘And by “someone” I assume you mean you want to take him?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows in a knowing way.

‘Well since you’re suggesting it …’

‘I’ll go get his leash,’ said Sam, sounding amused and starting to look it. ‘Aroura keeps it in our room.’

Dean registered the use of “our” and wondered for a moment just how long Aroura was planning on staying.

‘I would advise you to hurry,’ Cas suggested.

‘I’ll be as fast as I can.’

Sam left the room, coffee still in hand and Dean finished rinsing the two cups. He leaned against the sink, looking more amused than Sam had, and raised his eyebrows at Cas who was still standing sheepishly just inside the door as Shrek nosed at his neck.

‘Let me guess,’ Dean started, pushing himself away from the sink and walking slowly over towards the furry and fluffy pair as he spoke, ‘you’re planning on asking me to go with you.’

Castiel raised his eyebrows and put on a look of indifference, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

‘I wouldn’t object to your company were you to offer it,’ he said with an air of offhandedness and another half shrug which made Shrek whine. ‘Sorry,’ he directed at the canine, ‘perhaps it’s best not to jostle you.’

‘You’re cute,’ Dean said with an amused chuckle, making sure he was looking directly at Cas so as his comment wouldn’t be confused with a compliment for the dog. ‘Alright, I’ll play along. We’ll be driving for three hours. Maybe I should stretch my legs beforehand. I think I’ll join you two on your walk.’

He stopped at Cas’s side, placed on arm around him and rested his hand on Cas’s lower back, and leaned in to give Cas a swift peck on the lips. He felt someone kiss him back, but it wasn’t Cas; Cas’s tongue wasn’t weirdly soft and wouldn’t be hitting the side of his chin that was facing away from him. Dean slowly pulled away and fixed Shrek with a challenging look, moved his hand from Cas’s back and folded his arms across his chest.

‘Try all you want hairball, but I sure as hell ain’t kissin’ you.’

Shrek made a slight struggle to stretch in Cas’s arms to get at Dean’s face. Dean took an abrupt step away, thankful when Sam showed up with the leash and fixed it onto Shrek’s collar. Shrek was still struggling to get closer to Dean and Dean’s frown at him seemed to amuse Sam.

‘No need to play hard to get,’ Sam joked. ‘Now you’re good to go.’

‘We won’t be long,’ said Dean.

‘You’re going too?’ Sam asked and went on without waiting for a response. ‘Doesn’t surprise me. Have fun, you three.’

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you,’ Dean muttered, aiming it half at Sam’s “doesn’t surprise me” comment and half at Shrek’s attempts to get up close and personal. ‘Go ahead, Cas. Wait for me by the door while I grab a jacket.’

‘Don’t take too long,’ Cas warned.

‘I’ll run,’ Dean offered, heading out ahead of Cas and shooting Sam a wave of farewell.

‘Make sure Shrek licks Dean’s face at some point,’ Sam requested, ‘and tell me every detail of what happens.’

‘I’ll try,’ Castiel promised.

A minute or two later, fast as Dean’s “I’ll run” implied, Dean was meeting Cas and the whining Shrek by the door. Cas placed Shrek down as they headed out and he trotted on ahead of them using the full extent of his leash. Cas watched him with fondness on his face, one hand on the leash, the other dangling by his side swaying as he walked. Dean walked by his side, hands in his pockets, breathing in the fresh morning air that Dean of a month ago would have recoiled against in favor of staying inside until late afternoon.

‘So, Sam reckons he loves Aroura,’ Dean said conversationally as they moseyed along at a comfortable pace, stopping every few feet for Shrek to sniff at something or raise his leg against a lamp post.

‘Really?’ Castiel asked, his brow furrowing. ‘They seem to have an extremely fast paced relationship. And a confusing one considering how confusing Aroura is in general.’

‘I know, right?’ said Dean, raising his eyebrows in exasperation at his brother’s relationship haste. ‘But hey, if he does he does. Nothing we can do about it and there’s no explaining it. It’s not like you can choose who you end up falling for, right?’

‘Right,’ Castiel agreed with a small nod. ‘For example, I fell for a human who often snores, occasionally drools on his pillow in his sleep and refuses to let a dog lick his face despite the fact that it’s a known facts that the inside of a dog’s mouth is cleaner than the inside of a human’s, which I am, and it’s hypocritical because I’m almost certain you’d let me lick your face if I attempted it.’

‘I know where your tongue’s been,’ Dean defended himself. ‘But dogs? They lick their own assholes.’

‘That’s cats, Dean. Dogs aren’t quite as flexible.’

‘That’s not true,’ Dean corrected. ‘They lick their own junk, at least. I’ve seen a crap load of dogs do it. It’s just plain unsanitary.’

‘Yet it’s acceptable for humans to put the genitals of another human in their mouths?’

Dean stopped in his tracks and stared at Cas with a look of extreme distaste.

‘Well when you put it like that it,’ he muttered, and then continued walking along, catching up to Cas who had gone another few steps before he too stopped.

‘And on the same note, humans also lick assholes, or so the internet says. Not their own, which makes it seem even less appealing.’

‘Dude, don’t use the term “lick assholes.” It sounds gross as fu– _what the fuck do you mean the “internet says”_?’

Dean stopped again, staring at Cas in complete and utter disbelief. He swallowed thickly, taking some deep and slow breaths, trying to steady himself after hearing those words come out of Cas’s mouth, words he never, ever thought Cas even had the _ability_ to say, especially not the cute, innocent, fluffy haired little dude in the dorky sweater having his arm tugged by a cute (but less cute than Cas, of course) dog on a leash.

‘I’m not as experienced with acts of a sexual nature as you are, Dean,’ Castiel shrugged, as innocent and unphased as ever. Dean’s cheeks began to burn; he was glad there was no one around. ‘So I’ve been putting my computer to good use on the mornings I wake up before you. I simply stash it away before you wake up and act as though I’ve only just woken up too.’

‘And – and uh – what exactly have you been … searching?’

‘Sexual acts and positions we have yet to try,’ Castiel said informatively. ‘For example, what I mentioned before I believe is called rimming. Some other things that interest me are the sixty-nine position, using one hand to – to be frank – jerk us both off at the same time and, to be frank again, I’d quite like to climb on top of you and ride you once or twice, to see what it’s like.’

Dean stood, frozen, staring at him, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t completely certain of how the fuck they’d managed to get onto this conversation topic, let alone in broad daylight in the middle of the street with a dog in tow, but all he knew was that now was definitely not the time, not when Cas was looking so adorable and huggable rather than sexy and kinky, not when they were in the middle of the street, and not when there was no way in hell that Dean could hide a boner were he to get one, which was a very real possibility right now.

Dean rushed to Cas’s side, grabbed his hand, his cheeks turning pink and he muttered, ‘save it for later. We’re dog walking now.’

‘Of course,’ Castiel said respect, nodding as they proceeded forward at last, Shrek very happy to potter along ahead of them again. ‘Back on the subject we were discussing before our detour, I’m happy for Sam if he truly does love Aroura. I did mention their souls seemed to shine brightly around each other. I’m sure they still do, even if I can’t see them.’

‘Uh … yeah,’ Dean muttered, although truthfully he’d forgotten they’d been talking about Sam and Aroura at all. ‘Good for them.’

‘And you did say that this is what you wanted for him. A relationship like he had before.’

‘Yeah, I did,’ said Dean, nodding, still distracted, but a smile creeping up on him. ‘Would you look at that. Sam with a girl and us with a dog with a ribbon. Everything’s falling into place – and we’re gonna have to stop by the grocery store for some plastic bags, Cas, because that thing’s taking a shit.’

Cas frowned, confused for a moment, then saw Shrek and his eyes immediately grew distressed looking.

‘ _Crap_ ,’ he groaned.

‘Pun intended?’

‘Horrifying coincidence.’

Dean chuckled.

‘You stay here,’ Dean suggested, ‘the store’s only two minutes away in another direction. I’ll get some bags and we can find a trash can somewhere to dump it in.’

‘Hurry back,’ Cas groaned again, seemingly very uncomfortable with this turn of events.

Trying not to laugh, Dean crossed over the street and headed towards a busier one, glad his wallet was in his jacket and, if possible, falling a little more in love with Cas as he walked. It was Castiel’s frankness in one subject that was hot and heavy, and his ability to simply revert back to another just like that, that did it. Despite how much he’d opened up, how much his character had developed and to Sam how much Cas had seemed to change, there were still aspects of the same old Cas there that only made Dean’s heart grow fonder, every time he thought about the frank sexual explicitness that came as easy as Dean would when doing them, the easy remembrances of late night conversations, or the distress on Cas’s face when he realized the dogs tended to do more than peeing.

For once in his life, rather than pushing away all of his emotions an trying to keep his interior as hard as his exterior, Dean embraced them with open arms, like he was going to do to Cas as soon as they got home, or had safely deposited the bag of crap somewhere it couldn’t disturb their hug.

The rest of their walk went by briskly. There were no trash cans around so they had to carry around the bag of crap until they got home. Cas was extremely repulsed by it and kept looking at Shrek like he’d just laid an atomic bomb that could take them all out with one misstep, so Dean, still trying not to laugh, held onto it using the hand that wasn’t holding Cas’s. He held it a little away from him, holding the bag by the plastic and avoiding the substance within.

‘I bet you’re less keen to let him lick you now knowing what comes out of the thing I told you he can lick.’

‘He’s still cute,’ Cas said uneasily, shooting Shrek a wary glance, ‘but when we get out own dog, you’re dealing with _that_.’

‘Hey, no way,’ Dean protested. ‘I don’t want a dog. _You_ want a dog. You’re gonna have to get used to it, buddy.’

‘Dean, _please_. I’m an angel. I’m not used to _that_.’

‘Well you’re human now pal, so you’re gonna have to get used to it. If it eats, it poops. So buy a scooper and some bags if you ever plan on getting a damn dog.’

‘I thought you said that despite my humanity I’m still always going to be an angel to you.’

‘Not when it comes to dog crap. When it comes to that, next time you’re carrying the damn bag.’

‘ _Deaaaan_ …’

Dean’s stone set expression weakened at the pleading in Cas’s voice and the puppy dog eyes he was flashing.

‘Fine. I’ll carry the bag, but you have to pick the crap up in it.’

‘But that’s the worst part!’

‘ _Cas_.’

‘ _Dean_.’

‘FINE!’

When they entered the bunker, Cas had a self-satisfied smirk on that Dean knew was only there because Dean let Cas’s damn big blue eyes get the better of him.

After dropping the dog off with Sam, dumping the crap and both of them washing their hands thoroughly despite Cas never even being near the stuff, Dean and Cas headed off to their room to pick up some things for the drive. Dean grabbed his keys and made sure he had all of his fake credit cards (just in case) and Cas grabbed the book he was reading. Right before they left the room, the last thing Dean grabbed was Cas and kissed him repeatedly, small fast little kisses, all over his mouth.

‘What was that for?’ Castiel asked, frowning as Dean took a step back.

‘You’re cute and squeamish and your hair’s a mess and I _love_ it,’ Dean told him, pressed his lips hard to the general area of Cas’s mouth again, threw his arm around his waist and headed out.

The car journey to the city was pleasant. Dean threw a casual jab here and there at Cas’s earlier antics where he was grossed out by what Dean referred to as “the natural order of the digestive system” especially when Cas informed Dean that there was a very large three headed dog in the book he was reading, and read him out several passages proving so.

‘Aren’t you glad you’re not Hagrid?’ Dean teased, grinning easily at the man in the passenger’s seat who gave him a withering look in response. ‘I remember how big it was in the movie. Imagine how much that thing –’

‘ _Stop_.’

‘Sheds,’ Dean finished easily, his grin flashing jauntily as if that’s what he’d been planning to say all along. ‘You could make a sweater out of the hair it loses.’

To further his shedding comment, Dean reached over and plucked another couple of dog hairs from Cas’s sweater where they were still clinging as hard as Cas had been clinging to Shrek that morning. He tossed the hairs out the window and continued his cheerful grin at Cas.

‘You say I’m cute, but when you grin like that _you_ are the one that’s cute,’ Cas muttered, looking out of the opposite window so he wouldn’t have to look at Dean anymore, no matter how tempting it was.

‘Only when I grin like this?’ Dean asked in a falsely hurt voice.

‘You’re cute all the time,’ Castiel corrected himself, turning back towards Dean and smiling, not hugely and gaily like Dean, but small and adoring. ‘You’re beautiful all the time. Out of all the stars and sunrises and new creations I’ve seen, you, by far, are the most radiant and the thing I love the most.’

Dean’s huge grin dropped into a smile that was more shy and blushy as he turned away from Cas, his eyes practically glued to the road.

‘Stop talking about yourself,’ he muttered, his cheeks burning.

Cas ran the back of his hand over Dean’s flaming cheek which only made him blush harder and Cas chuckled quietly, letting his hand drop and drag along Dean’s shoulder and arm and finally brush against his leg before he removed it and got back to his reading.

‘You’re like the Hogwarts to my Harry,’ Cas said mildly as he opened up the page he’d stopped on and removed the bookmark. ‘The thing I never even dreamed I could have, was never even a possibility, but when I got it I never want to let it go and still can’t believe I have it.’

Dean’s blush finally burned out and instead he got that feeling again, where his heart pulsed in his chest so strong that he could practically feel it in his throat and he struggled to get words out when he managed to find them.

‘You’re my flowery meadow,’ he came up with. ‘The happy place I can sit and be after all we’ve been through.’

‘You know, at the end of the Mockingjay book Katniss says her children don’t realize they’re playing on a grave yard.’

‘Something tragic that became something beautiful,’ said Dean, trying to swallow the lump in his throat away. ‘The past is still there but there’s a better present and an even better future. For your Hogwarts thing it’s like Harry getting laid in the Quidditch classroom or something which makes him appreciate the place even more. He thinks what he’s got right there in that book is good, but just wait until Gi– some chick is there to make the future better …’

‘ _Quidditch classroom_?’ Castiel repeated, sounding practically revolted. ‘How – how can you even – how, _how_ – I can’t _wait_ to finish this – because then you’ll see the movie and – _Quidditch classroom_ – even the _notion_ …’

‘Okay, sorry, sorry,’ Dean said defensively. ‘Uh … potions. That’s a thing, right? The potions classroom.’

‘The potions classroom is in the dungeons,’ said Cas, ‘and Harry would never have sex there. He hates it. And what’s worse, it’s Snape’s classroom. The mean one who looks like an extremely greasy bat.’

‘My bad again,’ said Dean, ‘but you get the gist.’

‘I do,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘And there’s no need to stop yourself from saying Ginny. I still have the books in my head, I’m just not sure what book it is they got together in. If you know, don’t tell me.’

‘My lips are as sealed as that gold ball thing Harry got from Dumbledore.’

Cas laughed at the words “gold ball thing” but didn’t correct him. He leaned towards Dean and rested his head on his shoulder, kissed his shoulder as he did so, then straightened up.

The arrived in the city just in time for an early afternoon lunch. Dean drove around for a while before choosing a place to eat. He wanted to seem casual, although secretly he was looking for a place that was more than just some diner. He was making an effort here, stepping out of his comfort zone. He and Cas had sat side by side or across the table from each other in enough basic diners. He wanted today to be special in a way, like the day before, a day just for the two of them doing something new. Besides, they could technically call it celebrating. Amara had literally just died. There was a heavy weight lifted from their shoulders thanks to that.

In retrospect, they should have just gone to a diner when they entered a pleasant establishment and were greeted at the door. Dean _never_ went anywhere to eat where he was greeted at the door. Maybe once, twice in his life when he’d bothered to make an effort for someone, and each experience was as uncomfortable as each other. It wasn’t his scene, these pleasant little places with their wine and their cocktails and their appetizers in the middle of the day.

But when Dean noticed Castiel looking around in wonder, at the neat tables, the menus and the windows which had looked more casual from the outside, he guessed could embrace the place with open arms for … what? A half hour? How long would it take to get served and eat and pay? Surely, not long. He wasn’t entirely comfortable in this more restaurant-like setting having spent his life in and out of diners and take out establishments and fast food joints, but today he could make an exception. For Cas. And because of the celebrating Amara’s death thing and all.

At the table, with menus that weren’t just a sheet or two of plastic, it was thrown into the light again that this definitely was not a place they were used to. Truthfully it was casual, and bright, and light conversation from tables filled the air, nothing like restaurants seen on TV at night with red wine and red table clothes and fancy ass clothes. Everyone seemed to be dressed pretty casually, although the food was something practically never seen for Dean – organized neatly on a plate … with garnishes? Not just … some fries and a burger dumped on the plate with something on the side?

‘This all looks very expensive, Dean,’ Castiel said disapprovingly, looking over $15 dollar salads with his eyes wide, wondering what could possibly be so appealing about a bunch of leaves, and how on earth it could warrant such a price. ‘Are you sure about eating here?’

Shooting a look over the menu with his eyebrows raised, Dean was thinking the same thing, but cast another glance around at the type of place it was.

‘Not sure at all,’ he replied, ‘but it’s too late to back out now. We were _seated_.’

‘But can we _afford_ this place?’

‘I brought cash,’ Dean said, shrugging. ‘A couple hundred bucks. And if worst comes to worst and we accidentally order two plates of fish eggs, there’s always the credit cards. I brought two I’ve never used before so we’re good. Besides, it’s not like we’ll be racking’

‘Fish eggs?’ Castiel questioned.

‘They call it caviar,’ Dean explained, ‘and apparently it’s expensive as hell. I tried some crappy store bought stuff for like five dollars once, and it tasted exactly how I expected it to.’

‘How did it taste?’

‘Like fish eggs.’

Castiel laughed, a little too loudly, needing to place his hand over his mouth to stifle it. Dean beamed at him, like he always did when he heard that laugh, especially when it sounded gleeful and was paired with lit up eyes with crinkles in the corners, and this cute little nose crinkling thing that happened when Cas made his really, truly laughing face. It was rare, and he looked almost like a completely different person with a past untroubled who hadn’t witnessed the demise of The Darkness in his bedroom last night.

‘And what do fish eggs taste like, specifically?’ Cas asked, when he’d managed to calm his amusement.

‘Like the sea.’

‘Which tastes like …?’

‘Salty ass water. Or I guess. I’ve never actually been up close and personal with any beaches.’

‘That’s unfortunate,’ Castiel commented, frowning sympathetically. ‘Several years ago, when I was a little … y’know … after taking on Sam’s hallucinations …’

‘Yeah, I remember, go on.’

‘Well, then, I visited many places that were of interest to me. Forests. Places of nature. Fields of corn, bee farms, rivers and yes, beaches. Though I’ve seen them portrayed on television as over-crowded, covered in beach towels, bikini clad young woman and men in strange bathing suits running amok up and down the shore, but in person it’s different. To visit a beach on a cool, breezy day and watch the waves crash against the rocks, rolling against each other, playfully splashing close to the horizon … it’s a thing of beauty, Dean. Truly.’

Dean stared at him. Hearing Cas talk about the ocean was kinda funny, since Dean was staring at the ocean right now, trapped in the deep blue pits of Cas’s twinkling irises, swirling around like the waves Cas described. Though many people claimed the sea to be green, he’d only ever seen it as blue, reflecting the sky on a clear day, or turning a dark and sinister shade in a storm. He could envision what Castiel had described, Dean’s mind a canvas and Cas’s words the paint, as clearly as though he’d seen it in person …

… and then Cas turned back into that loveable dork as he added, ‘but make sure you know the difference between breezy and windy. Sand may not be expensive but it makes a good meal if your mouth isn’t completely closed and a gust of wind blows it into your face.’

It was Dean’s turn to laugh now, reaching a hand across the table to rest on top of Cas’s free hand resting on the table top, beside his menu which he’d placed down beside him as he spoke. Cas smiled softly, looking down and then back up again under his lashes, shifting his hand so that his thumb rubbed against Dean’s palm, then up the side of Dean’s index finger.

‘So, know what you want yet?’ Dean asked, nodding at the menu after a moment of silence.

‘Not salad,’ was Cas’s first response as he picked up the menu and mulled over it again. ‘What’s the difference between an appetizer and an entrée besides the latter being double the price of the former?’

‘The, as you say, _former_ is like the chicken wings that you get with your pizza. The _latter_ is the pizza. Speaking of chicken wings …’

‘… they seem to be the only edible or at least desirable thing on this list of appetizers?’ Castiel assumed.

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed. ‘I wasn’t going to get an appetizer at all, but now I know there’s _chicken wings_ I might just have to reconsider …’

‘ _Maple-bourbon glazed_ chicken wings,’ Cas accentuated.

‘With … _cheese_ dipping sauce? And something to do with bacon? What the –’ he cut himself off briefly, catching eyes with a waiter who looked like he’d disapprove of the word he’d originally planned to follow up with, ‘– _heck_?’

‘Heck?’ Castiel repeated in amusement, his eyebrows raising.

‘Do you want to split this appetizer or not?’ Dean asked, ignoring the slight tease.

‘Yes,’ Cas said boldly, putting his menu down and looking proud of himself as if he’d just made some grand decision. ‘I would.’

They ended up getting their shared appetizer and an entrée each, sipping sparkling water from tall glasses. Dean’s almost overheard f-bomb wasn’t the only thing that would have been disapproved of as he found himself the subject of a distasteful glance from a woman at a table nearby when he exclaimed ‘portobello _crap_?’ loudly enough to be overheard as he misread the word printed on the menu, which was in fact “cap”.

For his entrée, Dean ended up getting, not the “crap” (it came with beets – Dean disliked beets,) but the pork, where Cas went with the mango duck, wanting to try something he had never had before and deciding that the mango duck out of the two duck options was the better choice, as the duck breast came with some sort of egg yolk which seemed mildly off-putting.

In the end their meal was, to be frank, expensive as fuck.

‘Almost _one hundred dollars_ for _lunch_?’ Dean read when he got the check, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water or, more accurately, like a fish at the surface of the tank gobbling up food flakes, since this was after all the result of having eaten. ‘That’s like … a month of takeout food!’

‘Did we accidentally consume extremely expensive fish eggs?’ Cas asked, only half joking.

‘Probably,’ Dean muttered, ‘And it’s way over a hundred with tip …’

‘Why is it customary to leave a sizable tip?’ Castiel questioned.

‘Because people who don’t look like assholes?’ Dean asked, questioning it himself. ‘I don’t know. I just know when Sam and me were kids, dad always gave the waitresses an extra couple bucks the two or three times a year all three of us actually ate together, and Sam kept doing it when we started paying for shit ourselves. It. _It_. I said it, sorry ma’am,’ he added, smiling politely at a slightly mortified looking middle aged woman who passed by.

‘Speaking of you and Sam paying for things,’ said Cas, jumping onto something he’d been wondering for a while, ‘where exactly do you and Sam actually get your _cash_ money?’

‘Here and there,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Playing pool. Darts. Poker. One time we bet on a snail race in a crappy run-down shack of a bar. And sometimes – this is rare, but it does happen believe it or not – on cases that go well, like it’s just a poltergeist in some old lady’s house or something, if they’re not too terrified, in those situations people we help out give us something. It’s usually just muffins or pies or leftovers, but two or three times a year we’ve got grandmas forking over cash to thank us for getting rid of the ghost of a dead cat who keeps knocking over stuff in the kitchen. Stop laughing Cas, I’m not kidding for once!’

‘How do you even come across cases like that?’ Castiel asked through badly concealed laughter.

‘Not in the papers if that’s what you’re thinking. Imagine something like that getting reported. It’s usually by overhearing two people talking at a gas station or when we’re picking up crap to eat on the road in some small town on our way back to the bunker or on the way to our next case.’

‘And you’re completely serious?’

‘Well … at least _once_ it was a cat. Most of the time it’s usually a restless family member who’s got a safe full of cash hidden in the walls.’

‘That seems more believable,’ said Cas. ‘But if these things happen so rarely, and you don’t always get to gamble and hustle, how is it that you have money to spend currently?’

‘Savings from over the years,’ Dean shrugged. ‘We use cards when we can, when we’re not being tracked so we don’t have to worry about leaving a trail. Or if we’re never going back somewhere. So sometimes if I happen to win something, I take a twenty, buy a burger and a pie, stash the rest for in case we ever have to go on the run like in the old days.’

‘So … you brought some of your savings with you today?’ Castiel assumed, raising his eyebrows.

‘Stuffed my wallet with notes when I went to grab my jacket before taking the dog out, so you wouldn’t see. Surprise.’

‘You brought cash with you … for me,’ Castiel stated. It was a question, but he was already near sure of the answer.

‘Yeah, and you’re damn lucky I did,’ Dean pointed out. ‘I could easily brush this off as nothing, pay with a card, walk out like it’s any other day, any old diner in any old town … but I won’t. I’m paying cash … because I like you.’

‘Dean, you don’t have to …’

‘I know, believe me, I do,’ Dean clarified, ‘but if I’ve learned anything from accidentally watching crappy late night romance movies in motels my whole life, it’s that the gentleman almost always pays on dates. Or in this case, the dude who’s got money. I’m not sure about the whole gentleman thing, and it wouldn’t even apply here since we’re both dudes.’

Cas laughed at the statement, then again at Dean’s self-satisfied little grin and head tilt across from as he pulled the notes out and put them down. Cas counted as he did, but Dean didn’t stop with the money for the check and handed Cas some money too, which he took, but only to question it.

‘What’s this for?’

‘Sam and I always split things evenly. Except when I go to bars to pick up women and strike out and decide to make some cash instead. So it’s only fair you get your fair share now that you’re not getting it anywhere else. Where _did_ you used to get money from, by the way?’

‘Excluding by brief period as a human working at a Gas ’n’ Slip?’

‘Yeah, excluding that.’

‘Around,’ Cas shrugged. ‘I’m a nice person. If I saw someone struggling in the street, say for example an elderly person trying to heavy carry bags to their car, I would help out. And they were grateful and insistent. Like you and poltergeistious cats, I suppose.’

‘ _Poltergeistious_?’

‘It’s a good word, Dean. And it fits the situation.’

‘I guess.’

‘So what do I do with this money?’ Castiel prompted.

‘What did you do with it before?’ Dean asked.

‘Helped the homeless,’ Cas recalled, ‘acquired things for spells not easily come by for you and Sam. Like a bribe. I bought Claire lunch that one time when I helped her escape from that … _place_.’

‘You’re too selfless,’ Dean said fondly, looking at Cas who was still holding onto the notes looking confused. ‘You should use that to buy yourself something pretty. Or buy _me_ something pretty. I deserve it after coming to this place and being robbed in broad daylight by whoever put the prices on the food here.’

Castiel smirked, holding out his cash-filled hand, thinking about the fact that he already had some pretty things for Dean for his birthday, albeit paid for via stolen credit cards.

‘Would you rather we split the check?’ he asked smugly.

‘Shut up,’ said Dean, pushing Cas’s hand away. ‘I’m paying. Now let’s get a receipt so we have proof of who to blame if get food poisoning from the over-the-top food here.’

‘Okay,’ Cas said, laughing softly as Dean cast his eye around for someone to pick up the bill. ‘And Dean?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You …’ he hesitated, smiling shyly, ‘you’re considering this another date?’

‘I bought you food and you ate it and we’re alone and not friends,’ Dean answered. ‘Sounds like a date to me, don’t you think?’

Cas did a half-shrug, half-nod that made Dean grin at him, affection in his eyes, as the smartly dressed young waiter who’d served them their food made a bee-line for the table after previously catching Dean’s eye.

They left the establishment with their hands glued together, Dean liking the place a lot more than he had when he’d come in, and liking Cas even more too, surprising himself with the knowledge that still, even after all the extra feelings that had swarmed in this morning, it was still possible to grow more fond of Cas by the second, reveling in the adorable bashful giggle that came out of Cas’s mouth involuntarily as Dean kissed him on the cheek, pausing to take a picture on his phone of the two of them to commemorate, on their way to the car.


	30. Aroura Absent

Although Cas had already told Dean it was unnecessary, their next stop was a pet store, which Dean drove around in search of. There turned out to be one ten minutes away. It was a decently sized store with a vast array of small pets to be sold. Sadly it didn’t sell dogs or cats, but Cas seemed satisfied anyway. Cas wandered, first, to the rabbits, which he looked down upon as they nuzzled about their straw and hopped slowly around their habitations. He crouched down to be closer to them, peering at them through the glass. He smiled at one that came up to the glass and twitched its nose at him.

‘I think I’m going to like it here,’ Cas commented, looking up at Dean from his crouching position.

They wandered the store freely. There was a parrot there which they tried to make speak, but to no avail, until they turned away to go look at some other birds; it offered them a ‘toodles’ and when they turned around to look back at it, it had turned away from them completely, as if it knew it was being a sneaky, feathered little shit. Cas kept looking back at it even as he looked at the canaries fluttering around, sitting on perches and singing their canary song joyfully, but it didn’t speak again. Dean kept throwing it challenging looks.

‘It’s making fun of me,’ Dean decided, as he locked eyes with the bird for a third time.

‘It’s a bird, Dean,’ said Cas, with a roll of his eyes. ‘They don’t make fun of people.’

‘Parrots do,’ said Dean, narrowing his eyes at the bird. ‘They’re smarter than most birds. They can talk.’

‘So can people,’ Cas commented mildly, ‘but there’s still some pretty unintelligent ones out there that lack the capability to mock.’

‘Well that bird has that damn capability,’ Dean insisted, stalking over towards the budgies, ‘I know it has.’

‘Okay, Dean. Whatever you say.’

They continued around the store. Castiel was fascinated by all the different types of fish, some of which swam close to the glass to get a better look at this thing peering at them. He liked looking at the snakes, which, depending on their size, Dean didn’t care for much, and they had some fun locating the lizards in their habitats of green. There were even some large tropical spiders in this area of the store which Dean refused to go near.

‘Really, Dean?’ Cas asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

‘Don’t like spiders,’ said Dean, from a considerable distance. ‘Spiders and flying. My only two fears.’

‘Imagine a flying spider,’ Castiel offered thoughtfully, sounding rather optimistic about his idea.

‘You shut the fuck up right now,’ Dean ordered, pointing a finger at Cas from his distance.

Cas smiled gently and turned away from the hairy, eight legged monsters to wander back over to the man who had dubbed them that while muttering under his breath, and placed his hands on his shoulders.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said sincerely. ‘Arachnophobia is a real fear and it’s unfair to joke about or make fun of it. You have my sincerest apologies and regrets.’

‘That’s better,’ Dean approved, placing his hands on Cas’s  waist.

‘I’ll know better next time I discover one of your fears,’ Cas promised.

‘You won’t discover any. It’s just flying and spiders and flying spiders. Oh, and anyone fucking with my car.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ said Cas, and briefly pressed his lips against Dean’s. He dropped his hands and took a step back, forcing Dean to also drop his. ‘Now come on. I want to go look at the hamsters. And then maybe the dog toys.’

‘I told you to buy something for _you_ ,’ Dean said disapprovingly. ‘Not the damn dog.’

‘Well, it’s not like there’s anything in this particular shop that I could buy for _myself_ ,’ Castiel told him, shrugging, as they walked towards another area of the store. ‘I’d like a spider, but I highly doubt you’d let me keep it in our bedroom.’

‘You better be kidding,’ Dean warned.

‘Of course I am,’ Cas scoffed. ‘The spiders are interesting to look at but they wouldn’t make very good pets. All they seem to do is sit there and twitch.’

‘And stare at me murderously.’

‘So birds make fun of you and spiders give you murderous stares?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, Dean.’

As they wandered over to the hamsters, Dean with his hands in his pockets hanging slightly behind Cas as they went. He watched Cas’s back again, and his profile view as he meandered slightly to the side so he was both behind and beside him, noting that he looked more peaceful than he ever had, or at least had before the last month. Dean wondered if at any point Cas had ever felt any peace over the years, excluding the times when he wasn’t in his right mind. If Dean was the one who was bringing the peace for Cas, if he was the first one who’d caused it, which he doubted but hoped and it did seem to be a huge possibility … well, it brought peace to Dean to think about it.

There were a number of mouse-like creatures of varying sizes and tail lengths over where the hamsters were, including rats, which Dean frowned at.

‘Why would anyone want a rat for a pet? Most people spend time trying to keep rats _away._ ’

‘They’re cute, Dean,’ Cas frowned, giving Dean a slightly hurt look. ‘They’re furry and most likely soft to stroke.’

‘And they have sharp teeth and long bald tails.’

‘So do those,’ Cas pointed out, pointing at some gerbils. ‘Would you object to those as a pet?’

‘No,’ Dean shrugged, ‘because they’re small, not rats and not mice either.’

‘They all look similar but you’re going to discriminate against one animal simply because it’s bigger than the others?’

‘Come on, Cas. It’s not about that. It’s a _rat_.’

‘And?’

‘A _rat_.’

‘We’ve established that. And?’

‘And … well …’ Dean frowned, glaring at him, then turned away moodily. ‘Shut up.’

Castiel smirked and went back to surveying the scurrying creatures nibbling on food or digging in their sawdust or sleeping in a corner. Observing these creatures brought him a great pleasure, simply to know they existed and were being cared for.

‘I’d like a pet, one day,’ Cas commented. ‘Before our imagined future with the dog and the ribbons. Being able to have contact with Shrek is nice, but Aroura won’t be around forever and it would be nice to have something of my own to take care of.’

‘What, your pet human isn’t enough?’ Dean joked, raising his eyebrows and standing next to him, shooting him a playful grin from the side.

Castiel smiled.

‘My human will always be my favorite,’ he said quietly, looking down at his feet for a moment, unable to stop his fond smile from spreading that he didn’t want to give the hamsters, but wasn’t exactly going to give Dean either. ‘But you know what I mean. Something small and cute – not that you’re not cute and, when next to Sam, you’re not small –’ he rushed to add quickly, ‘but … it would be fun. Something to look after. To fill the space between hunting and catching up on Grey’s Anatomy and spending time with you and Sam and Shrek and the other important people in my life whether I see them often or not. The space that’s usually filled with some overbearing threat such as the apocalypse or more recently Lucifer and Amara.’

Dean paused, staring blankly at a gerbil pushing sawdust to the corner of its habitation, noting it but not watching it. He considered Cas’s words, and thought, _hey. If he wants a pet, I’ll give him a damn pet._ He grabbed Cas’s hand and immediately pulled him away from the glass he was looking through.

‘What are you doing?’ Cas protested, looking back over his shoulder at the rodent-like creatures.

Dean didn’t answer him until they’d come to a halt back in front of the fish tanks.

‘Pick one.’

‘What?’

‘Pick a fish. I’ll buy you a fish. You can pay for the tank and whatever else you need.’

Cas gave Dean a mildly surprised look, but when Dean gave him an encouraging one in return, he moved his eyes onto the tanks and began searching through them. It was difficult to pick one as there was so much variety and so many different colorful ones swimming around, but his eyes came to rest on a rather simple one. An orange goldfish, with parts of it flecked with brown spots. Castiel pointed directly at it.

‘That one,’ he decided.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘Keep your eyes on it. I’ll go get someone so we can get it out. Then we’ll grab a tank and whatever else we need for it.’

‘It won’t leave my sight,’ Castiel promised.

Dean left. Castiel stayed stationary, his eyes on the speckled fish, swimming around, drifting through the still water, not really interacting with any of the other fish who all seemed to be lost in worlds of their own. Cas had always found fish interesting, goldfish especially, since they rarely did more than swim around and occasionally deactivate themselves with their eyes wide open, floating as if paralyzed, which was their form of sleep or rest. They always seemed carefree, not active, yet appealing, and it was compelling to watch a tiny fish swim around without a care in the world. Cas found it very nice of Dean to suggest getting a fish … it would be nice, for once, to take care of a creature who’s life was safe in his hands rather than just hopefully-safe-oh-god-please-don’t-die. All he had to do was feed it and clean the tank and get to watch the thing swimming around. It wasn’t as though he could fuck that up.

Castiel very much liked the new direction in which his life had turned. It was almost unrecognizable, yet somehow everything he’d always had still remained. He still had his trench coat, even if not constantly on his back. Sam and Dean were still there for him. There were still people in the world to be saved. But he didn’t have to wear his trench coat every day anymore, and Dean was there for him in a very different way, and those people had to be saved from only easier threats to beat, not horrific apocalyptic ones.

Dean returned quickly with a cheerful staff member at his side, who began asking casual questions at once. Was this a first pet sort of thing, what kind of tank would they be looking for, what color stones, any decorations for within, so on and so forth. It was the tiny fish Cas beamed at rather than Dean when it was handed to him in a bag filled with water and they were brought around the store, Cas picking out a moderately large but still easy to carry tank, with multi colored stones, a small rubber plant and a castle to go inside to decorate it. He picked up some fish food, making sure to get the right brand and asked about cleaning and how frequently the tank should be changed.

‘Considering there’s just one fish in a decent sized tank, I think you can get away without a filter. Clean the tank out completely once a week and do a fifty percent water change when it starts to get discolored and you should be fine.’

It seemed simple enough.

As well as the fish and the things for it, one final trip around the store was made and Cas ended up buying some dog treats and several dog toys, accompanied by an eye-rolling Dean who was holding all of the fish accessories whereas Cas was only holding the fish. Cas seemed too preoccupied by his dog-toy-hunting to notice Dean struggling to balance the bag of stones and the fish toys on top of the tank, there being nowhere to stop to put them inside to make the whole thing easier to carry.

‘I hope Aroura doesn’t object to me buying things for her dog,’ Castiel voiced his slight worry as they reached the counter to pay at last.

‘She probably won’t,’ said Dean, shrugging as he finally plopped his armfuls of purchases down to be scanned. ‘Less dog toys to buy herself, I guess. If she even buys him that sort of thing.’

‘I don’t see why she wouldn’t,’ Cas frowned. ‘It would be unfair to deprive a dog of toys and entertainment. They have feelings, often feelings as developed as a human’s. They’re highly intelligent creatures who have the capability of taking things personally.’

‘Oh believe me,’ Dean replied in a tone that suggested something more, ‘I know.’

Castiel frowned at the tone until he remembered what Dean was implying.

‘Oh yes. I forgot you were a dog for an afternoon,’ he said with a smirk. ‘You know exactly how dogs feel.’

‘Shut up,’ Dean muttered towards him moodily, handing over some cash automatically when the cashier told him their total.

‘Dean,’ Cas interrupted, pushing his hand back with a handful of what was, now, his own money. ‘I’m paying. Remember?’

‘But I said I’d buy you the fish,’ Dean pointed out while the cashier fished for change.

‘Then you can give me the three dollars later,’ Castiel replied.

Dean did so, in the car, as soon as they’d placed everything on the backseat apart from the fish, which Cas held onto and rested lightly against himself while still keeping a hold on the top of the bag.

‘Anywhere in mind you want to go next?’ Dean asked, once the money transaction was complete.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Cas, looking down at the fish worriedly. ‘Is it wise to leave this fish in the bag for the three hour drive back, _plus_ the extra time of going somewhere else in the city?’

‘So, straight home then?’

‘That would be the wisest thing to do.’

‘Got it,’ Dean nodded, then frowned. ‘And you still didn’t buy anything for yourself. You just bought stuff for the fish and the dog.’

‘I could give you back the three dollars and say I purchased the fish for myself?’

‘Don’t you dare,’ Dean warned.

Castiel smiled, his happiness radiating outwards so much that Dean was almost certain he could see a physical embodiment of the emotion beyond the radiant expression if put upon Cas’s face.

‘Thank you for the fish, Dean,’ Castiel said sincerely, placing a hand on Dean’s arm lightly so that he barely even felt it.

‘You’re welcome,’ Dean replied, leaning over to kiss Cas the way he’d often wanted to lean over and kiss him during times past when Cas was riding shotgun, but Dean would never dream of breaking the barriers of their old friendship.

He started the car. Cas held up the fish and peered into the bag, noting it looking back at him. Despite no longer being an angel, he still seemed to draw animals to him, of all sorts. Or maybe that had never been the angel thing in the first place; perhaps it was just him. People seemed to like Cas, Dean noticed. He knew that for one, he did, and had always found him oddly mesmerizing. Though he distrusted him deeply at the time, when he looked up from having stabbed Cas upon their first meeting all those years ago in the barn, something about him just … drew him in.

Or maybe it was because he was pretty and his eyes were the prettiest many-shades of blue he’d ever seen. But … whatever.

‘He’s cute,’ Castiel fondly said into the bag. ‘Or at least I think it’s a he. When I was an angel, I was able to tell the sex of animals such as fish which can rarely be done without opening them up and taking a look inside. But now I’m just assuming.’

‘Has he got a name yet?’ Dean asked, looking over at the odd couple.

‘It may sound mundane and uninventive, but I was thinking about calling him Freckles,’ Castiel informed him, ‘due to his brown flecks that remind me somewhat of your freckles, only less numerous. I’m almost certain this comparison I’m currently making is what drew me to this specific fish in the first place.’

Dean chuckled lightly and rested his hand on Cas’s knee. Cas noted his hand for a moment and after considering it, with his free hand that wasn’t holding the fish, he took hold of Dean’s hand and began, as he often did, running his thumb over Dean’s. But this time with Dean’s hand just resting there, he began to play with it, lacing their fingers together, enveloping Dean’s hand in his own, resting his hand on top of it, running his finger tops up and down Dean’s fingers … whenever Dean had to move his hand to drive with it, Cas left his hand resting face down on his own knee, and every time Dean was done using his hand he slipped it underneath Cas’s.

It went on like that, on and off, for the entire three hour drive. Cas trusted his fish to balance against him enough to let go of it and read with his free hand, the other caressing Dean’s the whole time. The little gestures shouldn’t have meant as much as they did at this stage in their relationship, after they were completely comfortable with each other and everything they both did, but they did mean more than they would to most. All the years of lost time were being made up for in every simple touch and gesture, all the years lacking in intimacy for both of them from anyone, lacking in physical contact besides that that came from handshakes, shoulder brushes and fights with people and monsters.

It was early evening by the time they got back to the bunker. They got their things from the pet store inside in one trip, Cas carrying the fish and the bag of small dog toys such as balls and squeaky toys and a length of chewable rope to play tug of war with, while Dean carried the fish tank. They didn’t encounter Sam along the way and headed straight to their bedroom, where Dean dumped the fish tank on the bed and began setting it up, placing the stones along the floor of the tank and the accessories among the stones.  There weren’t many clear surfaces, put with some rearranging Cas was able to clear space on a shelf for the tank.

‘What now?’ Dean asked.

‘We have to fill the tank with water, allow the fish bag to float in the water for fifteen minutes, then pour the water and the fish into the tank. Then that’s it,’ Castiel informed him after reading what it said on the fish bag.

‘I’ll go fill this thing in the kitchen,’ said Dean, picking the tank up. ‘You can take the dog toys out of the bag and see if you can find where the dog’s lurking.’

‘I will,’ Castiel nodded firmly, propping his fish bag up against the pillows and grabbing the bag of dog toys again as Dean left.

As it turned out, Sam was in the kitchen, at the table, eating some kind of ready meal, the kind that could be cooked up in under ten minutes. Sam looked up curiously when Dean entered, noting the tank.

‘Hey,’ he greeted, his eyes flitting from the tank to Dean. ‘Just get back?’

‘About five minutes ago,’ said Dean, nodding. ‘Aroura not back yet?’ he assumed, since Sam was alone.

‘No,’ Sam answered seeming indifferent, adding a shrug. ‘The cons of also being The Savior or The Holy One or any of the others, I guess.’

‘Guess so,’ Dean agreed. ‘We got some toys for her dog, by the way. Well, Cas did.’

‘That was nice of him,’ Sam commented, watching as Dean waited for the tank to fill up in the sink. Waiting for him to mention it. ‘Did you guys do anything else?’

‘Had lunch,’ Dean informed him. ‘Looked at the animals in the pet store we got the dog toys in. Some bird was being an ass and it kept looking at me funny.’

‘A _bird_ was looking at you funny?’

‘Yeah, a parrot,’ Dean clarified, frowning. ‘Why?’

‘No reason,’ Sam shrugged, looking amused. ‘And … did you do anything else?’

‘No. We left the pet store and came straight back. Cas thought it best for, uh, Freckles.’

‘Freckles …?’

‘Oh yeah. We got a fish.’

Sam’s amusement increased, along with the height of his eyebrows.

‘You got a fish,’ Sam repeated.

‘Yes,’ Dean said evenly, keeping his expression that of a man who was completely serious, like this was a topic as simple as saying they picked up some milk while out at the store. ‘He’s orange with brown parts and his name is Freckles.’

‘Freckles,’ Sam repeated.

‘What, are you a parrot now?’ Dean asked.

‘You mean the one that was looking at you funny?’

Dean glared at him.

‘Cas named the fish,’ he stated, grabbing the tank from the sink and walking towards the door. ‘And at least he didn’t name an animal after a big green thing from a swamp.’

‘Hey, it’s not like I’m the one who named the dog!’

‘Yeah, I know, but …’ it was a losing battle. Dean shot another glare in Sam’s direction, a defensive one that made Sam struggle to maintain a poker face and conceal his laughter. Wow, he thought, the next two words really were becoming his catch phrase. ‘Shut up.’

Dean left, on route back to the bedroom with the tank, wondering if Cas was still off looking for Shrek or if he’d … he shuddered to think … _brought him into the bedroom_ … but luckily, when Dean returned to the room, there was no sign or man nor beast. He placed the tank down on the shelf and, hoping Cas wouldn’t mind, placed the fish bag gently on the surface of the water within. It floated easily, bobbing up and down a few times before growing mostly still.

‘Is he in?’ came a voice behind him.

‘He’s in,’ Dean confirmed, turning around to see a thankfully dog-free Cas returning to the room. ‘Find the furball?’

‘He’s just outside the door playing with a toy,’ said Cas, closing the door behind him.

Dean nodded, trying not to break out into a huge smile regarding the fact that Cas knew not to let the dog in the bedroom. (Or, according to Cas, not _yet_. He’d work Dean up to it.)

‘Aroura’s not back yet,’ Dean stated conversationally. ‘Sam’s in the kitchen. He told me.’

‘The kitchen,’ Cas repeated thoughtfully. ‘That reminds me. I’m hungry.’

‘You’ve been constantly hungry since you became human,’ Dean joked, moving away from standing by the fish to go sit on the bed, invitational, jerking his head for Cas to join him. ‘Don’t worry about being hungry. We’ll find something to feed you before you starve. Anything in particular in mind?’

‘Not really,’ Cas shrugged. ‘Nothing you’d have to cook. You already took me out today so I wouldn’t want you to have to go to the trouble.’

‘Pizza, maybe?’ Dean suggested. ‘It’s been like, what? Two whole days without takeout?’

‘Longer, I think,’ Cas said, feigning extreme seriousness as he looked at Dean with a dire look in his eye.

‘Oh dear god,’ Dean spat dramatically, like it disgusted him. ‘Well we’ll have to fix that right now. Or right in fifteen minutes after that fish is in the tank.’

‘And any extra calories we consume because of the unhealthy food we can burn of later,’ Cas suggested, subtly placing a hand on Dean’s upper thigh. ‘To thank you for today.’

The mischievous gleam in Cas’s eyes made it hard to remain serious.

‘How … do you know about calories?’ Dean asked evenly, as if he cared.

‘Television,’ Cas shrugged, moving his hand up higher and making Dean suddenly feel a lot warmer. He continued, as if Dean hadn’t asked a question and as if he hadn’t answered it. ‘You deserve a thank you. You deserve to lie back and not to any of the work, if you understand what it is that I’m insinuating.’

Dean’s mind jumped back without him even having to think. Cas remembered their unexpected conversation tangent from that morning when walking the dog as clearly as Dean did. Dean swallowed, and nodded.

‘Sounds fair,’ he commented evenly, taking a deep breath in and shifting his position slightly to try and subdue stirrings his was feeling. ‘But maybe you should move your hand … we’ve gotta get pizza and, uh … your fish is watching.’

Castiel smirked and moved his hand sideways, now that there was no room to go any farther up Dean’s thigh. And then he moved it back, and back down, surveying Dean’s expression the entire time and listening to how he clearly had to work to keep his breathing steady.

Dean grabbed Cas’s hand and sandwiched it securely between both of his own. Cas continued to look at him with a partially seductive and extremely mischievous shimmer in his eyes, but seeing Dean’s expression, firm and unyielding yet extremely yielding and wavering and showing signs of weakness and longing, made him start smiling uncontrollably and look down at his lap, unable to keep eye contact. When he looked back up, Dean’s smile was mirroring his own hidden one and he kissed him, missing his lips due to their positioning and instead catching him on the corner of his mouth. It made Dean chuckle.

‘Come on,’ he decided, getting to his feet and pulling Cas up with him. ‘We should ask Sam if he wants us to grab him anything from the pizza place even though he was eating when we got here. It wouldn’t be fair not to.’

‘Okay,’ Castiel agree, his hand still in Dean’s although Dean had let go with one of his hands now.

‘Or I could ask Sam and you could play with the dog,’ Dean suggested casually, swinging their arms playfully, saying it as though it was a mere speculative suggestion and not something Dean knew Cas would clearly be dying to do.

‘I’ll get the rope we can play with together,’ he decided, sliding his hand out of Dean’s and heading back to the bag that had the toys Cas had not yet shown Shrek.

‘Let him win,’ Dean suggested. ‘Build up his self-esteem. Make him think he’s strong enough to win every tug-of-war thrown his way. And then beat his ass at his own game.’

‘That’s unfair,’ Castiel pouted, joining Dean once again at the door. ‘Besides. I’ll have to let go every time. I’m afraid if I pull too hard I’ll damage his teeth.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Dean realized. ‘You wouldn’t want to do that.’

They stepped outside of the door and Dean shut it behind him. Shrek was chewing on a squeaky chicken leg and he had his paws wrapped partially around it. Dean had to admit, it was pretty cute. But he wasn’t going to say anything.

‘Have fun you two,’ Dean said as he left.

Cas waved him off in response as he crouched down in front of the curious dog, who had stopped his chewing and perked up, sniffing the air in anticipation as Cas, smiling broadly, produced the rope which Shrek began to nudge and sniff at.

Okay. The dog and the chicken leg was _pretty_ cute. The beaming angel and the enthusiastic tail-wagging animal? That was _adorable_.

When Dean returned from asking Sam if he wanted pizza (‘Maybe a small one. I’ll jog it off tomorrow,’) Cas and Shrek were going strong in the midst of a war. Shrek was shaking his head from side to side and Cas was following his movements with the hand that was holding the rope. As Cas saw Dean approaching, he loosened his grip and allowed the rope to fall out of his hand.

‘You win again,’ Castiel sighed, sounding defeated, as Shrek erected from his slightly stooped position and nudged Cas’s hand with his head for his victory-scratch.

Castiel began to rise when Dean got to his side but Dean motioned for him to get back down and lowered himself to the floor, not on his knees like Cas, but sitting with his back against the wall. Shrek immediately grabbed hold of the rope he’d deposited on the floor, trotted boldly over to Dean, and dropped it in his lap.

‘What the hell is this?’ Dean asked him, lifting up the limp rope.

Shrek prodded Dean’s hand with his nose and meekly took a piece of the rope in his mouth. He almost looked as though he knew Dean would be reluctant.

‘What are you up to?’ Dean questioned suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

‘Play with him,’ Castiel insisted, closing Dean’s fist around the rope he was holding. ‘It’s fun.’

Dean looked from Cas’s encouraging eyes to Shrek’s literal puppy dog ones and sighed. He tugged lightly on one end of the rope and Shrek sprang into action at once, tugging fiercely so that Dean’s hand moved forward. Dean mirrored Shrek’s every movement, loosening his grip just slightly every few tugs as he pretended to pull it back his way, until he’d loosened it so much that the rope just slipped right out.

‘Looks like you win,’ Dean commented, as if he were talking to a human.

Shrek nudged Dean’s now-empty hand with his nose.

‘He wants you to pet him,’ said Cas.

Dean did as Shrek requested with his nudge. Shrek moved his head upwards while Dean’s hand was on it and licked the underside of Dean’s wrist, the only place he could reach with Dean’s hand on his head. Dean removed his hand and allowed Shrek to continue licking him and at once felt Cas’s arms around his neck and his lips on his cheek.

‘I knew you’d warm up to him,’ he said joyfully, laying his head against Dean’s as Dean chuckled.

‘Hey, I let him lick me the first day he was here,’ Dean told him firmly, ‘and I only did that for you. This is for you, too. You think I like having doggy slobber all over my hand?’

‘Then pull away,’ Castiel suggested, in turn pulling away from Dean and fixing him with an indifferent look.

Dean hesitated. He looked down at Shrek, who was now licking his palm. It was warm and soft and vaguely ticklish.

‘… No,’ Dean said slowly. ‘This is good practice … for our – _your_ – dog in our future. The one with the ribbons and the bed _not_ next to ours.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Castiel said, very seriously, nodding as if he understood. ‘Good thinking. You’ll need to practice.’

‘Exactly,’ Dean said proudly.

He didn’t stop Shrek when he climbed into his lap, though. He didn’t even complain.

When the fish was swimming happily around in a wonderfully specious environment for the miniscule size it was and Shrek had vanished off somewhere with a bone that honked, it was time to take the twenty minute drive to Pizza Hut which hopefully would take less time due to light traffic, the wishful thinking only driven by growling stomachs. Those same growling stomachs also led to the pizza being opened in the car, just to have one slice each on the drive back to keep them satisfied, and it led to what would have been a messy situation of toppings sliding off of Dean’s slice had Cas not been quick enough to get his hand under it to catch them.

‘Maybe I should hold it for you,’ Castiel said warily.

‘What, like feed it to me?’ Dean asked, quirking his eyebrows teasingly.

‘That’s _not_ what I meant,’ Cas replied, with a roll of his eyes as he tipped the toppings from his hand back onto the slice and picked one of the loose ones up from it again and held it to Dean’s lips. ‘Try not to bite me.’

‘Cas, put it down. I was kiddi–’

Cas pressed the stray piece of chicken that had fallen off into Dean’s mouth as he spoke making him stop. He his head turned to look at him, chewing and unamused, to be flashed an innocent yet somehow still extremely not-innocent smile and shoulder shrug from Cas, head tilted to the side. He held out the pizza slice.

‘Try not to bite me?’ he repeated again, as a question.

Dean tried his hardest not to laugh in defeat, but the laugh of adoration won out and worked for both of those things. He kept his eyes straight ahead of him now as he drove.

‘You adorable dorky idiot,’ he muttered, mostly to himself, but Cas definitely heard. ‘Fine,’ he declared, ‘go ahead. But remind me never to let you talk me into eating pizza while I’m driving again.’

‘I promise to remind you,’ Castiel replied sincerely, holding the pizza slice near Dean’s mouth, ‘so hurry up and bite it so I can have some of my own slice.’

When they returned to the bunker, it was difficult to find Sam to drop his pizza off with him. He turned out to be in the rarely used living room, Shrek beside him, scrolling through shows on Netflix. It was unexpected to see him here, casual, but Sam Had been very casual lately, since Aroura had returned to his life. Different. Less uptight. Sort of … happy. Hell, actually happy. He looked up when the two entered.

‘You get the pizza?’ he asked Dean, before seeing it. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

‘What are you doing?’ Dean asked curiously.

‘Watching TV,’ Sam shrugged. ‘I thought I’d watch in here instead of in my room. It’s more spacious. And I still think we need better furniture for this place.’

‘Yeah, this stuff does kinda smell like …’ Dean trailed off, unable to place the exact odd scent that lingered in the fabrics of the couch and chairs.

‘Old people?’ Castiel suggested. ‘It smells very much like the old people’s home we once worked a case in, but without all of the disinfectant they most likely used the keep the establishment sanitary.’

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ Dean agreed, nodding at him as he sat down next to Shrek and put the pizzas on the table. ‘Old people. Old people smell is gross.’

‘They can’t help that, Dean!’ Sam defended these hypothetical old people leaving their scent on the furniture. ‘It’s not their fault they have a scent. It’s like how babies always smell like … baby. They can’t control it.’

‘But why do so many old people smell of soap and peanuts and that aroma that just can’t be placed?’ Castiel wondered out loud.

‘Who knows,’ Dean shrugged, flipping open the pizza box that contained his and Cas’s pizza. He stopped, seeing one of the slices had a bite taken out of it, and turned to Cas with his eyebrows raised.

‘You weren’t looking and I wasn’t satisfied enough with one slice to wait until we got back here,’ Castiel said meekly, not meeting Dean’s eyes and reaching out to pick up the nibbled on slice. ‘So we were on old people smell?’

Castiel pulled his chair forward closer to the table and fixed Sam and Dean with a serious look as if he were in for a deep and meaningful discussion on the odd subject.

‘Actually, we were talking about furniture,’ Sam corrected, flipping open his own, considerably smaller pizza box and grabbing a slice.

‘Buy new furniture,’ said Dean with a shrug. ‘It doesn’t matter to me. I didn’t even think we’d ever use this room again after we were done needing it.’

‘Everyone should have a living room,’ Sam said simply. ‘We can’t just sit around at long tables or in the kitchen or lock ourselves up in our bedrooms. This is a big place. We should take advantage of it.’

‘Whatever you say,’ Dean replied indifferently. ‘I mean, I’m cool with kitchens and bedrooms, but … suit yourself.’

‘That’s because there’s food in the kitchen and your bedroom is bigger than _this_ room.’

‘Can I help it if whoever built this place built a giant bedroom for special guests?’ Dean asked innocently.

‘No,’ Sam replied carefully, ‘you’re just lucky that you two got to claim it before Aroura and I could.’

‘Dude, she doesn’t even live here,’ Dean pointed out.

‘But she’s staying here,’ Sam retorted, ‘and if things go well, then I don’t know, maybe one day …’

‘You’re saying that she could be moving in here eventually?’

Dean didn’t know why he was so shocked by it. It certainly looked like things were rapidly heading in that direction.

‘It’s … a possibility,’ Sam nodded, speaking carefully. ‘And it’s not like we’re going to be here forever. We’ve got, what, another thirty or forty years left before we die or old age if something else doesn’t kill us first? We’re not going to live in an old Men of Letters bunker together for that long.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Dean clarified quickly, his min flitting a fleeting imagine of him and Cas and a ribboned dog, Sam and some woman who may or may not have the face or Aroura coming to visit, maybe some friends coming too, a celebration of some kind, maybe of Sam’s university course graduation … ‘I was just surprised. You brought it up pretty … suddenly.’

‘Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,’ Sam backtracked, picking up the remote and scrolling through various shows again. ‘I don’t know why we’re even talking about it. Have you two got anything you want to watch, or …?’

Dean looked at Cas, who shrugged. Dean looked at Sam. He wasn’t about to force his brother to watch some hospital show he only had a mild interest in and knew one or two characters from.

‘Put on American Horror Story,’ Dean suggested, recalling talking to Cas about it.’

‘Season?’

‘Murder House. It’s Cas’s first time, we should start with the best season.’

‘Dude, Asylum is _way_ better than Murder House.’

‘You asked if there was anything _we_ wanted to watch, and I say Murder House because in _my_ opinion a house full of ghosts is better than that weird unexplained alien thing.’

‘Fine. Season one it is.’ 

Pizza and horror was a fun combination, although said horror wasn’t particularly horrifying. The jump scares with that _thing_ in the basement, at the beginning with those twins especially, was the only jarring part for Cas, but not for Sam and Dean who’d already seen it and knew to expect them.

Two episodes in and every last crumb of pizza gone, they decided to call it a day on AHS. It was a good show to binge watch every episode of the season in one sitting and they weren’t about to get into that, so Dean took care of the pizza boxes and napkins and drink cans and bottles while Cas told Sam about the remainder of the dog toys Shrek had still yet to see.

‘You can stash them with the rest of his stuff and go grab them whenever,’ Sam informed him. ‘Aroura was talking about having a designated dog room, like his own bedroom or something. Speaking of Aroura …’

‘Has she contacted you at all today?’ Castiel asked, with genuine concern.

‘No,’ Sam said, somewhat glum. ‘But she’s probably busy, you know. Savior stuff.’

‘So you’re not worried?’

‘Not really. She got rid of Lucifer, she got rid of Amara, she can handle herself out there. There’s no real trouble she could get into, not anymore.’

Castiel breathed a breathy laugh of disbelief.

‘I don’t know how you’re so calm about the person you’re in a relationship vanishing and not contacting you all day,’ he said quietly. ‘I know if it were Dean, I’d be terrified.’

‘That’s because you two have lost each other in … unimaginably painful ways over the years,’ said Sam, looking as though it made him uncomfortable to mention it. ‘The only thing that separated Aroura and me was … normal life. Or something like it. She moved away, I moved away, we moved on. I hunted, she went through the motions of becoming The Savior, we were brought back together by chance, an internet search and The First Book. But you and Dean … it always takes a lot more for you two to get back to each other.’

‘But somehow it always happens,’ Castiel finished Sam’s obvious thought. ‘No matter how unlikely it seems, we find each other again whether we’re alive, dead or even completely different people. Even if we don’t remember who we are …’

‘You’ll always find each other,’ Sam finished for him. ‘It just sucks that you’ve had to keep doing it. I see the way you two look at each other, I’ve seen Dean after every time he’s lost you … no one should have to go through that.’

‘It was agonizing each and every time,’ Castiel acknowledged dolefully, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands folded together between them. ‘But having gone through it, I for one know that I shouldn’t take a single moment for granted now that we’re together. Even if that means stopping,’ he paused, allowing himself a laugh at a memory from earlier that day, ‘stopping in the street to take a picture to commemorate a memory. Or buying a fish together. Or talking about some distant, fantasy future that we know most likely won’t happen the way we’re planning it. It doesn’t matter what we do to make sure we make the most of what we’ve got, as long as I know that I’ll never let Dean and I be separated again. No matter what it takes.’

Sam smiled at him. He could see hope and certainty in Castiel’s eyes, and determination, and he knew that he wouldn’t live to see Dean and Cas separated again. It wasn’t going to happen. It _couldn’t_ happen, it seemed an impossible thing, seeing how Cas was so prepared to overthrow whatever imaginary threat did threaten to separate the two.

‘I second that,’ said Dean from the doorway, wandering slowly over to Cas’s chair and sitting on the arm of it. ‘No one is taking you away from me.’

‘If anyone tries too separate you two again they’ll end up dead,’ Sam stated.

‘Damn straight,’ Dean confirmed. ‘It goes for the both of you. You two are all I’ve got. So if anyone does anything to either of you …’

He didn’t need to finish.

‘Anyway,’ Dean said in a completely different tone, clapping Cas on the shoulder, ‘I’ve got some stuff to do. Laundry’s piling up. You’re invited to come with me and do whatever,’ he directed at Cas, looking at him with his hand still on his shoulder.

‘I’m right behind you,’ Castiel promised as Dean stood up, gave Sam a parting nod and headed for the door. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked Sam.

‘General stuff, I guess,’ Sam shrugged. ‘Check the news for freaky stuff that could be our kinda thing. Go search out a room in this place for this guy.’ (He placed his hand on the slumbering Shrek.) ‘I’ll find something to occupy my time.’

‘Tell me if you do pick a room for him,’ Cas requested, getting to his feet and scratching Shrek behind the ear before he fully straightened up. ‘I’m going to go help Dean.’

‘Have fun,’ Sam chuckled.

‘I’ll try,’ Castiel promised.

Castiel met Dean back in the bedroom where Dean, who hadn’t been lying about that laundry, was throwing their built up pile into a basket. Cas sat himself on the end of the bed beside where Dean had the basket.

‘Do you need any help?’ Cas asked, watching Dean’s face which was a thing he liked to do a lot, because Dean was pretty.

‘Throwing clothes through a door and putting in detergent?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement and stopping to look at Cas. ‘I think I can handle it. Got anything else you want me to put in?’

Castiel pulled off his sweater and handed it to Dean. He wasn’t wearing anything under it.

‘I got some pizza sauce on this earlier,’ he explained as Dean took it and dropped in the basket without question.

‘Don’t worry about it. I got you covered,’ Dean assured him, placing a hand on his upper arm. ‘Or uncovered, I guess,’ he joked.

Cas smiled at the joke. Dean put his other hand on Cas’s other arm, bent and kissed him. He let go abruptly and grabbed the laundry basket, taking it to the door with a confident stride. He paused in the doorway just after opening it and turned back towards Cas with a sudden smirk.

‘Don’t put a shirt on,’ he winked, vanishing before Cas’s responding smirk had a chance to fully form.

Upon Dean’s return to the room he found his request fulfilled. It looked at first glance as though Cas hadn’t moved at all, but upon further inspection Dean noted the bottle of lube resting casually beside Cas, and also that he’d removed his shoes and socks. Dean pretended not to notice these things as he walked into the room, closed the door behind him and made sure he locked it. Castiel looked at him as if he hadn’t even noticed his absence.

‘Anything exciting happen while I was gone?’ Dean asked, casually kicking off his shoes as he did so.

‘Nothing out of the ordinary,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Nothing at all, if I’m to answer honestly. Freckles went into his castle and swam out again if that qualifies as exciting.’

‘He seems like he’s having a wild time,’ Dean joked. He sat down beside Cas, pulling his socks off, suddenly recalling their discussion before their decision to go for pizza. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself at the thought of it, as on a completely new tangent he asked, ‘what do you feel like doing?’

‘I don’t know. What do _you_ feel like doing?’

‘I’ll do whatever,’ Dean shrugged, hopping onto the bed where the pillows were, where Cas was still sitting on the end of it, now twisting around to see Dean casually removing his upper clothing as if for comfort. ‘We could watch some TV, play some cards, talk about –’

Dean was cut off by Cas straddling him and his face on his. While Dean was casually listing activities, Cas had crawled upwards towards him and climbed on top of him, as if he’d been waiting to do it all day. In actual fact, he had been waiting all day to do it. He’d been fluctuating between fucks and cuddles for hours, depending on how he saw Dean in whatever moment. That morning with Shrek, Dean had been adorable and moody, admittedly turned painfully sexy when Cas was talking about that stuff he’d read about online. While out in the city, Dean had been charming and gentlemanly, and staring at his beauty brought things up to the hotter end of the spectrum. Once they’d gotten home, they’d almost hit that end, but things had to cool off and things went back down to Cas wanting to hold onto Dean and never let go due to the extreme cuteness of the pizza thing in the car.

And now they were alone again, in a bedroom, and Cas’s sweater had come off and Dean’s default, casual expression as he tossed things in a laundry basket had reminded Cas that as well as being that adventurous gentleman that had taken him to an exotic (for them) place to eat and bought him a fish, as well as being that cute sulky guy who didn’t want dog hairs all over him, as well as being that playful teaser from this morning, Dean was also still hot as hell. He wasn’t sure where it all connected or why seeing Dean doing such casual things reminded him that he was there, he was Dean, a person, a glorious person, and was _his_ , but there were times when Cas just saw Dean and just … fell. Fell into a pit boiling over with love and lust and need.

So that was how things managed to escalate quickly from with a casual stained sweater removal, to Cas grinding on top of Dean, the friction caused by their underwear (their pants now discarded and thrown to the floor, out of their thoughts) only increasing their urgency, Dean’s lubed up fingers snaking their way into the back of Cas’s pants, a rare occurrence for this pair. Dean had, on some occasions, slipped a finger or two up there out of spontaneity when in the midst of the act, but this, having Cas on top of him, taking charge and about to take it _all_ in, was brand new territory and Dean was prepared to do whatever Cas told him to as things progressed. He would let Cas use him for all he was worth.

It was a very fucking good time for both of them. Cas’s tightness made Dean’s back arch, his head digging down into the pillows while his torso was attempting to levitate; his fingers dug into Cas’s thighs, his arms moving up and down as Cas did, must have been hurting Cas, maybe even leaving bruises, but Cas didn’t seem to care. Cas was feeling all new things, his head was thrown back with his hands twisted in the sheets, arms supporting himself from behind, and then his head was bowed and his hands were on Dean’s shoulders as he felt it building up and he exploded, completely untouched, all over Dean’s chest while he was still riding hard. The increase in speed during Cas’s build up had brought Dean close too, and one, maybe two minutes later he let go of Cas’s thighs and grabbed onto his hips, pressing just as hard here, as he tried to keep his low moan as quiet as possible as he came inside the warm, wet hole, feeling Cas slow down and climb off now that his job was done.

Cas collapsed next to Dean, flat on his back, his head resting on Dean’s upper arm that Dean had flung out for him. The lower part of the arm flopped over Cas’s shoulder and Cas reached up with one of his hands to grab hold of Dean’s and rub his thumb over his palm.

‘So, uh …’ Dean stuttered, his breath coming in heaves, ‘uh … did that … was that … the internet, did it say …’

‘The internet … didn’t say … how exhilarating it would be,’ Cas got out, his mind on what they’d just done. ‘Nor have you ever said how it feels to have it … _inside_.’

‘Yeah, it’s … it’s something alright,’ Dean acknowledged, starting to get his breath back. ‘I hope you’re not rethinking where you stand on … how we usually do things …’

‘Please,’ Castiel scoffed, letting go of Dean’s hand and propping himself up on his elbow. ‘It was amazing, truly, but looking down upon you while I’m inside of you is equally, if not more gratifying. To see your satisfaction. Whereas now, just then … I was focused … more on me. Besides,’ he went on, pushing himself up so he was sitting and could make a sweeping gesture at Dean’s chest. ‘Look at what I did to you.’

‘Yeah. We should take care of that,’ Dean acknowledged. ‘Think we can get to the bathroom without being seen? I don’t want to mess up the inside of a shirt. I just put shit in the washing machine.’

‘I’ll keep a look out and follow after you,’ Cas promised. He stopped down and kissed Dean’s shoulder, then his lips. ‘I would like to wash up also. It’s … slick down there.’

Dean grinned, and then he giggled.

‘Yeah, you’re gonna be moist for a while. What goes in must come out. It’s not exactly like there’s a sponge up there.’

‘Beautiful imagery,’ Cas mumbled, rolling his eyes.

‘Hey, I’m a vocal artist.’

Laughing, Cas hauled himself off of the bed and went to grab some pajama bottoms to throw on, then he threw on the shirt Dean had been wearing under his flannel today, which was in a puddle on the floor. He added his slippers and then he wandered over to the bedroom door, unlocked it and opened it and peeked out.

‘The coast is clear,’ he informed Dean, who was kicking into sweats.

‘Keep an eye out for the approaching giant,’ Dean instructed, then as an afterthought added, ‘or the approaching … opposite of giant. Whatever that is. She could be back.’

‘I’ll keep my eyes peeled,’ Castiel vowed.

At the door, Dean cast his eyes around once before he crept out, looking around him as he walked briskly, Cas right behind him with his hands on his shoulders. Luckily they encountered no one and made it safely to the bathroom without incident and started cleaning up immediately while hoping for a safe trip back. Dean may not have been covered in a very obvious white substance, but he and Sam had never made a habit of wandering around without shirts. At least not without a robe on over whatever they’re wearing besides a shirt.

They returned to the bedroom again incident free. There was still time before Dean had to go transfer the laundry from washer to dryer, so as soon as they got back to the room Dean hopped back onto the bed, adjusted the pillows for optimal leaning quality, grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, straight to Netflix.

‘You seem dedicated to my finishing Grey’s Anatomy before it’s return although at the rate we’re going it’s unlikely to happen,’ Cas pointed out.

‘I’m pretty sure it’s possible to watch a season in a day,’ Dean commented, watching the loading screen come up. ‘Next time we take time off we should do that. Take enough days to watch the rest of the show. Never even leave the bedroom.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Cas said mildly. ‘Although with the tragedy rate in this show, I doubt it will be.’

‘Yeah, it won’t be.’

There was a knock on the door. Dean grabbed hold of the gray blanket and threw it over himself as Cas, detouring from his walk towards the bed, went to answer it. It was Sam, as expected considering as far as they knew he was the only one there.

‘Hey, I’m not interrupting am I?’ he asked.

‘I paused the show, you’re good,’ Dean called from the bed.

‘Of course you’re not,’ said Cas, with a roll of his eyes. ‘What is it, Sam?’

‘I just thought I’d let you know I found a room for Shrek,’ Sam said quickly, factually. ‘It’s your old one, actually. If you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not,’ Cas brushed off. ‘I’m not using it. I’m glad he has somewhere of his own now. I’ll drop off his toys next time I’m passing.’

‘You do that,’ Sam nodded. ‘I’ll let you guys get back to your show. Oh, and Dean?’

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked.

‘Nice tattoo. Looks like it’s healing well.’

‘Thanks. It probably hurt less than the original handprint.’

Sam laughed and gave a wave of farewell to both of them. Cas closed the door after him and Dean unpaused the TV before Cas could even begin his walk over to join Dean on the bed and nestle into his side, his lips occasionally pressing against the warm skin of Dean’s chest as the episode progressed, his hand under the blanket resting on Dean’s soft and warm stomach which he loved to rest his hand on so much.

The cycle Dean had put the laundry on was under two hours and was in the final five minutes when he went to check on it when the episode ended (after he put on a shirt, of course.) Cas took the time to pay a visit to his old room with the dog toys and place them in there, where the door stood ajar and Shrek lay in his basket, awake but not active, a heavily chewed teddy next to him. Cas was happy to see the teddy, because it was a sign that the toys he’d bought for Shrek we not the first the dog had.

Before he left, Cas crouched to pat Shrek goodbye. As he stood up to leave Shrek let out an inquisitive whine, which Cas heard as, _where are you going?_

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Cas promised, ‘and I’ll make sure Dean does too. I should get back to him now.’

It looked like Shrek was pouting when he placed his head down on his crossed front paws. Castiel gave him a weak smile and left to go back to the bedroom and wait for Dean.

They watched more Grey’s Anatomy while waiting for the dryer and after an episode after the dryer had finished they settled into bed after the long day which has gone by quickly. Castiel lay with his head on Dean’s chest for a while, Dean playing with Cas’s hair, the two of them saying nothing.

‘We gave that fish quite a show earlier,’ Dean commented, breaking the silence.

‘We did,’ Castiel agreed. ‘I hope we haven’t scarred him.’

‘Dude, those things have like, three second memories or something. I think we’re good.’

‘Actually,’ Castiel stated, flipping over onto his stomach and resting his hands on Dean’s chest, folded together, his chin on them, ‘fish are highly intelligent creatures.’

‘Are they?’

‘Yes. I’m not sure in what way, exactly, but they are. They can remember things for up to a year. You should never underestimate the abilities of a creature simply due to them not being human.’

‘Like you, for example?’ Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow. Castiel’s own ones raised in suspicion.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re not human. Or at least you weren’t. And I may have underestimated your abilities in … certain areas … before I knew better.’

The faint outline of a smirk began to form. Cas smiled bashfully, moved his hands, and buried his face in the soft skin of Dean’s bare chest, Dean having removed his shirt once again. Dean chuckled and wrapped his arms around Cas.

‘I like this,’ he stated.

‘You like what?’ Castiel asked, looking up again, his eyes meeting Dean’s with some difficulty due to the positioning of his head, cheek to chest. It would have been easier to stare at the underside of Dean’s chin, his chiseled jawline less so than usual the way his head was positioned in proximity to his neck and chest. Soft to the touch, were Cas to touch it.

‘This part,’ Dean clarified. ‘The laying here. Talking. Joking. That’s the part I never thought about back when I used to fantasize about you and me.’

‘What did you fantasize, specifically?’ Castiel asked quietly, giving up on straining his eyes and instead letting them flit down to Dean’s throat. ‘Besides the obvious.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Different things. The sexy things, obviously. Or being able to reach over and hug you whenever you say something dorky or cute. Mostly about how I’d tell you, or show you how I feel. There were a lot of ways in my head about how we ended up together.’

‘Like?’

‘Like us arguing about something, you asking me why I didn’t want to do something dangerous, all angry and furious and I’d scream, mostly by accident, “because I love you!” and maybe add some embellishment. “You idiot” is usually what would spring to mind.’

‘There have been plenty of opportunities for that to happen,’ Cas mused, not in a “why didn’t you do it” kind of way.

‘And I hated how I chickened out every damn time I got near saying it,’ Dean told him.

‘Any other ways?’ Castiel persisted.

‘Last night on earth situations,’ Dean told him casually. ‘We say how it’s our last night on earth. Talk about the first time we thought that would be the case and how I took you to that place to get you laid. Mention maybe we could try again this time, only stay in. Because it’d be the two of us doing it, with each other, not other people.’

‘That’s a weak one,’ Castiel joked. ‘That’s not an admission of feelings. That’s an admission of attraction.’

‘Hey, the feelings talk would come _after_ ,’ Dean insisted. ‘If you don’t want me to tell you what I used to think about, don’t ask.’

‘My apologies,’ Castiel said sincerely, sighing. He went silent for a moment, then said, ‘I used to think about these things too.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yes. But mostly it was in dire circumstances where I feared one of us may die. Each time I was afraid I would be too late in telling you how I felt … and every time I was. And every time whichever one of us that had died came back, I was grateful for another chance. Another blown chance when it came down to it, so many times …’

‘But we didn’t blow it this time.’

‘No,’ Cas agreed. ‘At least not in that sense. In another, however …’

Dean laughed. Cas smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest, where he’d felt the laugh rumble from. He could hear Dean’s heartbeat, as steady as Dean’s arms felt around him.

‘Plenty of blowing going on in that department,’ Dean pointed out.

‘Yes, there is,’ Castiel agreed. After yet another pause, he voiced a thought. ‘I find comfort in the fact that we can talk about anything ranging from mild to extreme sexual acts and then go right back to talking about something else, or doing something completely different. It’s one of a wide range of topics I enjoy that we get to discuss now.’

‘Well, we’re together,’ Dean shrugged. ‘We can talk about anything. We have no secrets. Nothing to hide or be afraid of … and I’ve never had that before.’

‘Nor have I,’ Cas breathed as he sighed a content sigh, wrapping his arms around Dean as far as he could get them without shoving them under him, which would make Dean need to arch his back first. ‘I feel as though I could share anything with you, be it my feelings the first time I walked the earth within a vessel or be it my opinion on … for example, your teeth, and how I’ve never told you I like the shape of them, but I do.’

‘You’re complimenting my _teeth_ now?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows although Cas couldn’t see.

‘I have compliments for every part of your physical being,’ Castiel said calmly. ‘The typical things, like how attractive your arms look when you wear shorts sleeves, or the unorthodox things like the shape of your teeth, or the freckles on your ears, or how you truly have the most attractive fingers I’ve ever seen. Even stranger, less talked about parts of you have compliments about them floating around in my head somewhere.’

‘You’re sweet,’ Dean chuckled, tightening his grip. Cas shifted within it, moving farther up, and now Dean could reach his forehead and plant his lips on it a few times. Cas, in return, kissed Dean’s collarbone. ‘And I could say the same thing about you.’

‘Do you think at some point we’ll stop with the constant compliments and the meaningful words?’ Castiel asked, sounding slightly worried about it.

‘Not for at least seven years,’ Dean answered promptly. ‘Not until we’ve made up for all the time we weren’t together when we should have been.’

Castiel didn’t respond. Several minutes later, his breathing slowed into a steady rhythm and Dean noted that he was asleep. He moved him into a more comfortable position, buried his face in his shoulder and closed his eyes, kissing Cas’s shoulder blade for a last time before he joined him in sleep.

They were awoken in the morning not naturally, but by a sudden, sharp, knock on the door that made them sit up in alarm. The knock sounded again when they were scrambling out of bed and putting on shirts and Dean pulled the door open before he’d finished fully pulling his down. Sam was on the other side of it, disheveled, his hair sticking up in odd places, in his robe and looking like he, too, had been awoken.

‘Aroura’s back,’ he told them hurriedly, Cas now joining Dean’s side and linking their arms together, the natural response to be joined together to face whatever was causing the suddenly palpable tension in the air. They waited for Sam to go on, and explain why that was important and why he looked so thrown.

And then he said three words, words that were what they were expecting least. The words weren’t that there was a new threat on the horizon, like The Darkness or Lucifer 2.0, the words were empty of meaning, able to be interpreted in any number of ways until they knew the whole story.

‘God is dead.’


	31. Sky Lodge Cabins

It flew right over their heads.

‘God who?’ Dean asked, a very stupid question.

‘God _who_?’ Sam echoed. ‘God! Actual God!’

‘God God,’ Dean repeated. ‘As in Chuck Shurley God?’

‘ _Yes_.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Castiel agreed with Dean.

‘No, it’s not,’ Sam insisted. ‘Aroura went to Chuck’s place yesterday and found him dead, along with two angels. She tried to find what did it from came up a dead end. It was too messy to look for any clues. She came back when she realized there was nothing she could do.’

‘But the world is still … happening,’ said Cas, frowning deeply to himself and wandering back into the room, in search of a place to sit down before his legs gave way from confusion and disbelief. ‘The world can’t be happening with no God. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘The world kept happening before we knew there was a God,’ Sam shrugged, walking in after Dean, who had left the door open as an invitation. ‘And it happened before there was one, I’m guessing. Something had to make him and his sister, right?’

‘But …’ Castiel looked up almost helplessly from his spot on the end of the bed. ‘It can’t … I don’t … I don’t _understand_.’

‘Come on, Cas,’ Dean urged, his arm around him, ‘you thought he was dead once before. You weren’t this shocked by it then.’

‘I never believed he was dead,’ Castiel corrected him. ‘Other angels said he was. I never believed them. I searched for him, remember? I never found him, but I searched, and I had hope. But now you say he’s dead … two angels … which two angels?’

‘Gabriel and Michael,’ Sam answered gravely.

‘That’s impossible,’ Cas whispered, this time to himself. ‘Who could have the power to kill _God_?’

‘Aroura thinks it was Ruby,’ Sam voiced. ‘That Lucifer planned it.’

‘Planned it like how?’ Dean asked.

‘Resurrected her,’ Sam explained, ‘since she was one of the demons that kick started the apocalypse. Had her do the ritual to try and distract us from what was really going on, with him being back. And then had her kill God and his right-hand-angels for if The Savior ended up beating him and he couldn’t do it himself.’

Sam folded his arms over, looking at them expectantly, waiting for them to either believe him or ask more questions. Dean stared at him, his arm staying tight around Cas’s shoulders. Castiel was staring at the floor, trapped in his own head, trying to come up with a number of explanations for what it was that Aroura apparently saw. At last, he looked up.

‘That’s impossible,’ he said, for a third time.

‘I can go get Aroura,’ Sam challenged in his and her defense.

‘Not yet,’ Castiel stated firmly. ‘I don’t mean that’s impossible, although I would deem it highly improbable – I mean it’s impossible that the demon Ruby could kill God himself.’

‘Unless Lucifer made her stronger,’ Sam pointed out.

‘But why Ruby?’ Castiel persisted. ‘Why not Lilith? She was his first demon, and the last seal to be broken, allowing him to rise the first time.’

‘Maybe he thought Lilith would be too obvious?’ Sam suggested.

‘I doubt it,’ said Cas, shaking her head. ‘Ruby tended to stick to one vessel when she was here, both before and after Dean went to hell despite those being two different vessels for each time period of her being on Earth. Similarly, she chose to come back, or perhaps Lucifer chose for her to come back, looking like her last vessel. She’s more recognizable than Lilith, who jumped from vessel to vessel as if she were simply changing clothes.’

‘Then maybe he wanted us to notice her,’ Sam countered his own offer of an explanation. ‘Maybe he wanted us to be distracted by that fact that she’s Ruby. He must know we got involved with her, and that I …’ here, he paused, looking uncomfortable, ‘trusted her and … well, you know.’

‘Let her turn you into a vampire?’ Dean finished for him, raising an eyebrow and looking pissed.

‘Dean, it was a long time ago,’ Castiel said quietly, sensing the tone.

‘Yeah,’ said Sam, ignoring the same thing that Cas had noticed, ‘that.’

‘Perhaps,’ Castiel agreed with Sam’s latest suggested. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Using someone we know doing a ritual we’re unfamiliar with and would want to figure out is indeed a good distraction – but why use a ritual that requires his assistance resurrecting the slain? Why not use some other kind of ritual, and use the time we were taking treating it as a case, to kill God himself, or even attempt to take out The Savior?’

‘If he’d come face to face with her before the grave yard, the same thing would have happened to him,’ Dean pitched in. ‘I hate to say it since I still barely believe it, but she’s stronger than he is. The outcome would probably have been the same no matter when the confrontation took place.’

‘That’s true,’ Sam agreed, nodding at Dean. ‘Besides, it doesn’t matter what his motives were. He’s dead. The fact is, Ruby’s out there somewhere, she may or may not have had something to do with this whole God thing, but the main thing is that God and two arch angels are dead and something powerful did it. We have to look into it, at least. Into the one suspect we have and … look elsewhere.’

‘I knew it was too good to last,’ Dean muttered angrily, in reference to the short days of peace they had managed to scrape up. ‘Right. So you said Aroura was trying to find what did it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well we should do that then.’ Dean extracted his arm from around Cas and got to his feet, to be more level with Sam, or as level as he could be considering the height difference, which was even more pronounced without Dean wearing thick soled boots like he did in the day. ‘And we need to see the scene of the crime for ourselves.’

‘I’ll go tell Aroura and we can go after breakfast,’ said Sam, already heading back for the door.

‘ _After_?’

‘You two look like crap,’ Sam told them. ‘At least take a shower or something before we go.’

‘Thanks for being so complimentary,’ Dean muttered, stalking back over to Cas with his arms across his chest.

‘Look, there’s no hurry,’ Sam said calmly. ‘The crime scene’s not going anywhere. Aroura can go back and guard it if we need her to. Take your time, it’s not like rushing will help locate Ruby or figure out if it was even her that did this, and it definitely won’t help us find what did if it wasn’t her.’

‘And if it was her, what her motive was,’ Castiel added.

‘Yeah,’ Sam agreed. ‘So take your time.’

Sam had left the room before they had a chance to respond. Dean sat back down next to Cas and put his arm around him again tightly, putting his other hand on his leg. Castiel looked at him, looking slightly troubled but not too worse for wear.

‘Are you okay?’ Dean asked him quietly.

‘Yes,’ Castiel answered uncertainly. ‘It’s not as though I knew God personally, we only met a handful of times and only once did I know who he was. I just … am having trouble grasping the fact that the man who I’ve always known was my creator no longer exists. God is gone. We’re living in a Godless world.’

‘Hey, don’t think like that,’ Dean urged, squeezing Cas’s shoulder and knee underneath where he had his hands placed. ‘It seemed pretty Godless before anyway. The guy wasn’t doing anything other than drinking and writing and just … watching. Waiting for shit to unravel.’

‘I guess so,’ Castiel muttered.

‘Try not to take it so hard,’ Dean pleaded, resting his forehead against the side of Cas’s head and kissing his ear, comforting him in a way he wished he’d always been able to, with physical contact and sweet kisses instead of just empty words. ‘Anyway, we haven’t even seen proof. I don’t know about you, but I don’t trust this.’

‘Why not?’ Cas asked, turning his head which forced Dean to move his back.

‘Think about it,’ said Dean. ‘Chick we barely know who seems too nice for normal has got Sam head over heels for her. That chick also happens to be some hunter called Tyler I met a million years ago, some soul you saved from hell before me, a buttload of other people and some kind of Lucifer and Darkness killing savior. I guess it’s not that hard to believe once you get past how weird it is when you think of how weird our lives are, right?’

‘Right …?’

‘But then she vanishes for a day to talk about God and she comes back and says he’s dead. And sends _Sam_ to tell us. She doesn’t even bother to tell us herself – and couple that with all the weird crap we barely understand and it seems like something we shouldn’t trust until we see proof for ourselves.’

Castiel watched him speak and he looked as though he agreed. A moment after Dean finished, he heaved a sigh and nodded a minuscule nod.

‘You’re right,’ he agreed, looking more accepting. ‘We’ll see it for ourselves and if it looks like … like it’s real, then there’ll be no mistaking it. We should be sure. And then we can jump in head first into taking out what did it.’

‘There you go,’ Dean said encouragingly, and kissed Cas on the lips once to try and cheer him up somewhat and stop him looking defeated.

‘We should shower,’ Castiel then decided, looking at Dean with his eyebrows raised slightly. ‘You’re beautiful, as usual, but I do understand where Sam was coming from when he said that we look like crap, at least when it comes to you. You look like …’

Cas trailed off, biting his bottom lip and frowning, unable to find good words to express his thought.

‘I look like I had really great sex last night and all I got to clean up with was some toilet paper and water?’ Dean presumed, waggling his eyebrows at Cas suggestively, making Cas laugh as was his intention.

‘That, and like you were woken abruptly from a night of sleep, during which the effects of the aforementioned “great sex” were coming back to haunt you into a state of exhaustion, a state that you hadn’t fully recovered from when awoken, therefore resulting in what I hear is often called “morning face” by many.’

It took a moment for Dean in his admittedly still tired state with his mind already occupied to get through it and add up everything that Cas meant.

‘Yeah, you look tired and well-fucked too,’ Dean agreed light-heartedly, clapping Cas on the shoulder in a casual manor before he extracted his arm and stood up. He placed his hand on Cas’s cheek more affectionately, coming to a pause in front of him. ‘Now let’s get you showered. And shaved, before your face scratches my hand off.’

‘I thought you once said that my having more facial hair than normal before shaving is hot?’ Castiel challenged, raising his eyebrows.

‘It is,’ said Dean, adding his other hand to the other cheek. ‘Pain is the price I have to pay for it.’

‘Dean, please. You’re exaggerating. It scratches more than usual, at the very least. But it doesn’t cause you pain.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Dean, rolling his eyes but keeping his hands in place. ‘It’s not like what you usually have it isn’t scratchy anyway. What’s a little extra going to cost other than a razor and some shaving cream?’

‘Precisely.’

‘And it doesn’t stop me from doing this,’ Dean added, kissing Cas again, slowly this time and without moving his hands.

Dean kept his hands where they were even as Cas stood up and placed his own hands on Dean’s waist and they stood there, kissing for a while. Eventually Dean dropped one of his hands to Cas’s neck, the other to his hip, and let his lips wander the area around Cas’s mouth instead of just staying on his lips.

‘That’s a good demonstration of how it doesn’t stop you,’ Castiel pointed out when they parted. He licked his lips, tasting Dean on them. ‘Perhaps one more day without shaving wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And it would save time and get us to … you know … more quickly.’

The atmosphere dropped suddenly when they remembered the news.

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed. ‘You’re right. So shower and all that, but skip the shave. Then we can go see for ourselves if what Sam says is true.’

‘Did he seem oddly calm to you?’ Castiel inquired, tilting his head to the side.

‘Yeah, he did,’ said Dean in a way that sounded as though he’d wanted to mention it himself. ‘We should keep an eye on that. He’s been acting … different lately. Too relaxed. Something might be up.’

‘Or maybe it’s just Aroura’s effect on him.’

‘Yeah, maybe …’ Dean sighed. He’d rather not talk about it. ‘Come on. Let’s go get in the shower. We can talk about it later if he’s acting weird in any other way.’

Their shower that morning was more somber than usual. Physical contact was limited, where usually there were many touches and caresses underneath the running water. Today, however, contact came as they moved together in the small space, but things were more business-like, in and out as they washed, no waiting for each other to finish. Dean was out and half dried off before Cas had finished, and he’d thrown what he was wearing back on before Cas was dry. He was dressed by the time Cas reached the bedroom to get dressed himself.

‘What do you think we’ll see at the … scene?’ Cas hesitated to ask, pulling on socks.

‘Who knows?’ Dean shrugged. ‘An explosion? Shit burned up wherever they died?’

‘Bodies?’ Castiel countered. ‘Blood? Their wings burned into the ground beneath them? Does God even _have_ wings?’

‘Good question,’ said Dean, huffing out a small laugh more in acknowledgment of the thought than of amusement. Thinking of what lay ahead, it wasn’t a particularly amusing day. 

‘I never imagined him with wings,’ Castiel said thoughtfully. ‘Nor did I imagine him without them. When I found out he was Chuck, I honestly never dwelled on his true appearance. I suppose I’ll never know what that was, considering the fact that he’s dead and even if there’s some trace of it in there, I won’t be able to see it with my human perception.’

‘Try not to think about it,’ Dean suggested, watching Cas play thoughtfully with a sweater before he put it on. ‘You’ll upset yourself. And we can’t have that, can we?’

Dean’s hands were on Cas’s arms before Cas could even look up and when he did he met Dean’s encouraging eyes, full of everything that made Cas love him, which caused a slow smile to spread across his face.

‘I’ll stop thinking about it,’ he promised.

‘Good,’ Dean said proudly, dropped his hands and gave Cas’s arm a pat before he stood back to give Cas room to throw his sweater on.

They didn’t talk much as Cas finished getting dressed, fed his fish and the two of them left the room together.

It was a quick breakfast. Some fast gulps of coffee plus a handful or two of dry cereal, washed down with a few more gulps, topped off with not washing the coffee cups. They could wait. It was business now, serious business until they had solid proof of the death of God and two of his angels, and Sam was nowhere to be seen, which left Dean and Castiel pacing impatiently through the bunker.

They were waiting so long that they could have sat down and had a decent breakfast, did the dishes and still have five minutes to spare. Sam and Aroura arrived together, coming from the outside, with Shrek on a leash in tow with them.

‘You two ready?’ he asked, as casual and calm as ever, like they were just headed out to the movies or to go shopping.

‘Are _you_?’ Dean challenged, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at the dog on the leash. Today, he didn’t look cute. Today he looked like a distraction.

‘Two minutes,’ Sam promised.

‘And then I’ll take you guys to … what I saw,’ said Aroura. She, at least, looked mildly uncomfortable and concerned about whatever was going on.

‘Has Sam seen it yet?’ Dean asked, as soon as Sam had left with Shrek to return him to his bedroom and stow the leash.

‘No,’ Aroura answered, her arms crossed across herself, unable to meet Dean’s eyes, ‘but he knows I wouldn’t lie about … this.’

‘How are we getting there?’ Castiel asked.

‘Residual powers from The Savior’s full manifestation,’ Aroura told him. ‘I can go places. Like you could years ago when you were an angel with wings. Except … more powerful.’

‘More powerful?’ Cas repeated, questioning.

‘I don’t need to touch people to transport them.’

Aroura looked like talking about it made her uncomfortable. Thankfully for her, she was saved from having to, due to Sam’s follow through on his “two minutes” promise and he rejoined them promptly, his game face on now, as he placed a hand lightly on Aroura’s shoulder.

‘Are we going?’ he asked.

‘We’re already there,’ Aroura answered.

And, they were. They were in a small room, a room that looked vaguely familiar, although much of the furniture was overturned and the walls had been repainted a dark red. Only … so had the floor. And much of the furniture. And after the first casual glance around, it was clear upon a second look that the new red paint was blood.

Oh, god.

Oh, _God_.

They weren’t just dead. They were destroyed. There were three heads distanced from their bodies, one severed leg strewn across the floor, the bone shockingly white where it wasn’t soaked with drying or clotted blood. The imprints of two pairs of wings were on the floor, overlapping, due to the fact that all three of the dead were tied together with some ugly, pink and red, twisted rope. Dean, braving, took a step forward to investigate the rope – and jumped back at once when he saw the gaping crater the rope was coming from.

The crater of one of the bodies, sliced down the center.

Castiel bolted for the door at once, and Dean got out behind him just in time to see him be sick in a dead potted plant just beside the door.

‘Cas,’ Dean said wearily, placing his hand on his shoulder as he straightened up, ‘are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ Cas croaked, looking the opposite. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cleared his throat once, his voice clearer now, as he looked at Dean desperately. ‘Dean …’

‘I know,’ said Dean, opening his arms and allowing Cas into them. ‘I know,’ he muttered into his shoulder. ‘Those are angels. And there’s God. You don’t need to say anything.’

Sam and Aroura weren’t far behind them, stepping outside both looking sympathetic and like they’d rather be outside than in anyway. Dean and Cas pulled apart, Castiel looking at the ground. They were standing either side of the door. Dean glanced out at the neighboring houses; none of them seemed disturbed, or like their occupants knew what lurked behind the door Sam had pulled closed behind him.

‘It’s bad, right?’ Aroura said quietly.

‘It’s a fucking blood bath,’ said Dean. He walked over and put an arm around Cas, who seemed uncomfortable still, and walked him down the short creaky steps that led up to the door. They sat down at the bottom and Dean looked back up at the two standing by the door, one looking knowing and the other repulsed and confused. ‘What now?’

‘I think we should go back in,’ said Sam, making his way to the steps and sitting down at the top. ‘Look for something that could give us a clue as to what did it. Or who. If it’s Ruby, or … something else.’

‘No demon did this,’ said Cas, his eyes staring blankly ahead of him, Dean’s hand on his back. ‘No demon has the power to overpower those with such a high power and then …’

Images of mutilated corpses flashed before Cas’s eyes and he closed them again, blocking them out. He wasn’t to think about guts spilling out of Chuck’s, of God’s headless body, a length of intestine wrapping around all three of the bodies, one of them missing a leg …

‘I agree with Cas,’ Dean said darkly. ‘And did Ruby ever seem like the type to do … well, you saw.’

Any doubts Dean had had about the truth of Aroura’s “God is dead” story were gone, had gone the second he laid eyes on the scene. The time inside had seemed to go in slow motion, and now, outside, it seemed like they’d been inside a lot longer, done much more, rather than simply looking …

God was dead. Gabriel was dead. Michael was dead. And now this was like any other case, but bigger.

‘She’s the only person I can think of,’ Aroura said, a little helplessly, shrugging her tiny shoulders cluelessly. ‘She’s the only person who was once a main threat that’s here again. She’s the only one we know for sure was working with Lucifer.’

‘What about that Emerald chick?’ Dean asked.

‘Dead,’ said Aroura.

‘She died?’ Sam asked disbelievingly.

‘Yeah,’ Aroura answered easily. ‘She came here with The Darkness and died when she died. You might have seen her the night –’

‘I saw her,’ Castiel interrupted. ‘I saw her vanish when Amara did. So –’ he continued, standing up unexpectedly and turning back to look up at the house the steps led to, ‘Sam, you mentioned something about going back inside?’

‘Woah, woah,’ Dean said quickly, jumping to his feet as he said it and grabbing hold of Cas’s wrist, as Cas had just taken a step forward re-ascend the steps that led to the door, ‘Cas. Buddy, I don’t think you want to go back in there.’

‘Dean, I’m fine.’

‘You hurled in a dead plant.’

‘I was shocked by what I saw.’

‘You’re not going back in,’ Dean said determinedly, letting go of Cas’s wrist and putting his hands on his shoulders instead, looking into his eyes.

Castiel frowned in genuine confusion.

‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘It’s not good for you,’ Dean informed him. ‘You’re not going back in.’

‘But I’m _fine._ ’

‘Tough shit. You’re not going in.’

‘ _Why_?’

‘Because, I love you.’

 That was enough to make Cas’s confusion and determination turn into a soft smile.

‘And so,’ Dean continued, ‘I don’t want you to have to see that again. It’s worse for you than it is for us, we were never angels. We’ll go in and check things out – and clean up.’

‘Alright,’ Cas replied sheepishly as Dean dropped his hands, and sat back down on the step. ‘I’ll just wait here, then.’

Dean, who had been smiling in satisfaction and had been about to go up the steps, froze. He’d heard those words before, both from Cas and from some Supernatural fan musical, they made him suddenly feel guilty even though he’d just be inside. He looked up at Sam.

‘Will you two be good in there without me?’ he asked.

Castiel looked up at Dean.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Nowhere,’ Dean said decidedly, again taking a seat by Cas’s side. ‘I’m not leaving you out here alone. It’s not fair. So, Sam?’

‘We’ll manage,’ Sam confirmed. Discomfort crossed his face. ‘What should we do with the, uh …’

‘Burn them,’ Castiel decided, turning his head to look up at Sam, ‘so if anyone comes looking they’ll never be able to find or … do anything else to them.’

‘Got it,’ Sam nodded, looking sympathetic once more.

Without speaking again, Sam and Aroura disappeared back inside the house. Dean and Cas stayed outside in silence, a cold wind whipping by them. It was early and it seemed like the area around them was a dead as those dead inside the house which looked almost exactly the same as it had the first time Sam and Dean had approached it when seeking out Chuck Shurley having found out about the Supernatural books for the first time. The only differences were subtle; new curtains in the door instead of clouded glass, closed, and two dead plants either side of the door.

‘Are you okay?’ Dean asked again, quietly this time.

‘Yes,’ Castiel answered, just as quietly as Dean had asked. ‘It’s just … you know. I was an angel. And that’s God and two angels.’

‘I get it,’ Dean nodded. ‘And you weren’t just an angel. Back at the start, you were a loyal ass angel. God this, God that …’

‘I remember,’ Castiel said quietly, an unexpected small chuckle escaping his lips at the memory of his God-obsessed robotic old self. He rested his head against Dean’s shoulder and snaked his arm around his lower back. ‘And I know I shouldn’t be laughing right now. But this is … slightly surreal. I went from not understanding and barely believing, to seeing proof very quickly. And the proof and the fact is there, God is dead and the world still stands, unchanged. As if he didn’t create everything in it.’

Dean rested his head on top of Cas’s. One arm wrapped its away over Cas’s shoulders, the other hand free sought out Cas’s equally non-occupied hand and their fingers laced together.

‘The dude who invented cars is probably dead,’ said Dean. ‘And they’re still going strong. That guy who invented the phone died a long ass time ago, and I’ve got one of those in my damn pocket. A little updated, but it still exists. The people who built the bunker are probably all long dead, but we still get to live in it. The people who make things die, but people keep using the things as if they’d always been there, like nothing has a creator …’

‘And this is no different,’ Castiel added to the unfinished thought that Dean had left hanging in the air.

‘It’s just another case,’ Dean stated, almost bored.

‘Apparently so,’ Castiel sighed, leaning heavily on Dean.

Dean looked around at the dull area full of rundown looking houses like Chuck’s and wondered why God had chosen such an area. Was it the tedium of the area, the quiet that surrounded, which made it easy to do … what? Write? Do God-Stuff? Whatever it was that he’d been doing for years, locked up in this place.

‘Hold up,’ said Dean, lifting a finger to signal he’d only be a moment, then stood up.

‘Where are you going?’ Castiel asked.

‘Not far,’ Dean promised.

Cas watched Dean walk swiftly up the steps, back to the front door and disappear inside. It made him uncomfortable when he thought about what Dean might be encountering inside, the mess that Sam and Aroura were most likely cleaning up, making it seem like everything was fine and the house’s occupant had simply disappeared, moved on without saying a word …

True to his one-finger-signaled word, Dean didn’t take long or go far. He walked back down to the bottom of the steps, down onto solid ground and extended a hand to Cas. Cas took the hand and stood up, frowning.

‘Are we going somewhere?’ Castiel asked, as Dean started walking without explaining first.

‘We’re going into town, it’s not far,’ Dean told him. ‘We’ll get some water and a packet of chips or something since we didn’t get a decent breakfast. And, uh … they need some supplies for … the burning.’

Dean looked uncomfortable with having to say it. Castiel nodded, understanding. He briefly let go of Dean’s hand as they walked, instead linking their arms together and reaching over with his free hand to rest it on Dean’s arm linked through his own. It was difficult to get the image out of his head, now he truly knew that the three words “God is dead” were more than a statement. Harder to get distracted. But he would try.

‘When was the last time you worked a case without a car?’ Cas asked as they went, trying to keep his tone light and casual and avid thinking about … anything other than the fact that he and Dean were walking together in the direction of the town, and that was that.

Dean thought about it for a moment.

‘Never,’ he realized, looing surprised by his own realization. ‘Not a real case. A weird thing involving angels where I wasn’t clued in, or cases with time travel involved? A few times. But a case like this, investigating an attack on someone, never.’

‘Perhaps we should have driven,’ Castiel mused, looking out at the quiet road expanding ahead of them as they ventured forth. ‘We could have prolonged the time between the bold claim being a bold claim and the bold claim being proven fact. And we could have driven into town rather than walked. It’s slightly cold outside.’

‘Well, it’s January,’ Dean shrugged. ‘The cold’s to be expected. Screw just buying some water and some chips, let’s find a diner and grab something hot instead.’

‘Did you bring any money?’ Castiel asked, slightly worriedly.

‘Wallet’s in my jacket,’ Dean reassured. ‘You never know when you might need to buy shit.’

Cas tightened his grip on Dean’s arm but didn’t say anything.

The town, when they reached it, wasn’t busy and was relatively dingy. The town was pretty much in the middle of nowhere and didn’t even have a specific name; those in the area just called it “town” and when Sam and Dean had first gotten the address of Chuck Shurley from that lady with the tattoo on her ass from the publishers, they had been given co-ordinates and directions and a house number rather than a specific address.

Trust God to hide in the middle of fucking nowhere, writing his books and doing his God-Stuff.

The whole town seemed to consist of two to three main streets, plus many side alleys and random buildings dotted around that seemingly deserted stretches of road led to. On what seemed to be the main street, there was a very small diner-type place with two doors; one led up to a counter and that was it, the other led into a tiny area where there were seats and another side of the same counter. The area with no seating and the other door must have been for take-out customers only.

It was nearing twelve and there were only two other customers there, sitting at tables eating fast food right out of the packaging. The place seemingly didn’t see the point in springing for plates, or real cutlery for that matter. The man having cheese fries was using a fork made of plastic, like those that usually came with take out.

‘Burger and fries each?’ Dean suggested after one glance over the menu.

‘And some kind of drink,’ Castiel added.

‘They’ve got cans,’ said Dean, pointing at the clear drinks fridge that could be seen behind the middle-aged woman at the counter, who seemed to be doing a crossword in the paper. She was biting her lip in concentration and every so often she’d glance up at the clock.

‘Coke,’ Cas requested.

Dean nodded and went to the counter to order. The woman behind it seemed grateful for the excuse to take a break from the crossword puzzle which Dean noted was barely filled in at all and had many crossed out and re-written letters, two or three in one box, making it look very messy. He went back and slid in across from Cas.

‘It shouldn’t be long,’ he told him. ‘This place is a ghost town. Even if Sam and Aroura weren’t cleaning up that place, I doubt anyone would pay attention to it.’

‘I’m not sure the people here would notice if an elephant died in the middle of main street,’ Castiel said in a low whisper, looking over Dean’s shoulder at the zombie-like man two booths away from them. There were no tables, only a line of booths along the wall, then a bathroom door that led off the back wall which had a large crack down the center of it. ‘This is a truly inconspicuous place for a literal god to lie low for several years.’

‘The chick at the booth closest to the door’s been working on the same French fry since we came in,’ Dean noted. ‘I’m gonna have to agree with you on the elephant thing. This is a great place to come if you don’t want all of your angels showing up and banging down your door to ask why you left heaven.’

‘God always was great at hiding,’ Cas agreed.

‘So how are you feeling?’ Dean asked, above a whisper now they were out of dangerous-to-overhear conversational territory, but still staying below normal range.

‘It still feels like everything is overly morose and that the drop from easy distraction into the aforementioned morose state happened uncomfortably quickly,’ said Cas, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully, ‘but now we’re away from the house and somewhere warm and indoors … it’s getting easier to talk and think about. I mean,’ here he lowered his voice again, ‘God is God, but it’s not as though I knew him personally. He resurrected me multiple times for which I’ll be eternally grateful and we did have some encounters before and in the lead up to the apocalypse before we knew who he was, but we I never knew him. It’s just difficult to let go of the thought of a heavenly father and creator after it was wired into your every thought for so many thousands of years before I met you and Sam and everything went … just …’

‘Spiraling down into a black hole of “what the hell”?’

‘That’s oddly accurate,’ Castiel nodded.

‘Order up,’ called the woman at the counter.

Dean stepped over to the counter, thanked the woman and slid back to the table as if there’d been no interruption.

‘I’m glad you’re feeling better,’ he told Cas. ‘I can’t even begin to understand what it must be like. But I’m sure you already know that so I’ll shut up and ask if you’re okay in another sense – is your stomach okay? You did quite a number on that plant. If it hadn’t already been dead, well …’

Castiel chuckled.

‘I’m fine, Dean,’ Cas assured, picking up his burger. ‘It was an unpleasant experience but I know it was just caused by me, to put it in it’s simplest terms, being _completely grossed out_ by seeing what I saw. There’ve been extremely disgusting things I’ve seen in the past that would have triggered a similar reaction if I had been human at the time.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Dean, through a mouth stuffed with multiple fries. ‘The first time I went out hunting with my dad a monster _literally exploded_. Green goo everywhere. And then it was my turn to get goo everywhere. It can take some getting used to, seeing the gory stuff.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Castiel smiled, his smile looking tired and it was short-lived. ‘And I’ll try to get used to it as quickly as possible.’

‘You do that,’ Dean nodded. ‘Now shut up and eat your burger before it gets cold. You’ve been holding it without doing anything to it for two minutes.’

Cas’s next smile was less tired and lasted longer as he did as Dean suggested with a slight eye roll and a loving look at the man across from him. Even in dire times, Dean could always find some small subtle way to lighten the mood.

They ate slowly. It was mostly to prolong the time away from the house with the bloody mess inside. Both of the other customers left while they were there, and one other customer entered into the take-out portion of the place, ordered a single bag of fries, then left. The woman behind the counter eventually gave up on her crossword puzzle and stopped looking at the clock, apparently having burned through the time she’d allotted herself to work on it, instead moving on to doing something on her phone. Dean and Cas didn’t talk much, when they did it was about trivial things, like if Freckles was wondering where the people from the bedroom were gone or if Shrek was playing with any of his new toys. They steered clear of the subject that was at hand.

Once they’d finished up and paid, the duo headed into a store in search of things that would help take care of the bodies, but they didn’t specifically mention what it was they were buying to each other. They both knew it, they just didn’t say it as they purchased some lighter fluid and matches and then headed back on foot towards the area clustered with neglected housing.

Dean took the things inside, while Cas stood outside the door avoiding thinking about what lurked within. He wasn’t inside long and when he emerged he looked grave.

‘The place is mostly clean,’ he informed the awaiting Castiel, ‘but they’re going to have to take the bodies outside so they don’t set the place up in flames. Make like they’re burning old blankets out back.’

‘But in the blankets …’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’d like to be there,’ Castiel decided suddenly, making Dean raise his eyebrows. ‘I may not have known God very well, I may only have interacted with Gabriel a handful of times while we were both on Earth, Michael may have been a source of trouble several years ago when he wanted to use you as a vessel, but I would still like to be present when they go up in flames.’

Cas seemed to have accepted what had happened much better than he had earlier. Dean nodded in understanding and peeked his head inside again. He gestured for Cas to follow and made his way to the living room, motioning for Cas to wait just inside the front door. When he saw that all three were wrapped up in blankets and rugs, he went back and signaled that it was safe.

‘You two did a great job on this place,’ Dean commented, looking around. ‘And fast, too.’

‘We work well together,’ said Sam, avoiding smiling when he glanced down at Aroura. ‘And we work fast under pressure.’

Looking around, it almost looked as though there had been no incident at all.

‘Oh, and we found this,’ Aroura said suddenly, holding up blood-stained a seemingly-woman’s jacket, the gender estimate due to the size and styling. ‘With this in the pocket.’

She held up a piece of paper with an address written on it. It was a lodge, all the way across the country, in a small quiet town in Maine, called Moose River. Dean had been there once when passing through after working a case in Maine, and knew it had less than three hundred residents. He frowned at the address, which included room number and everything, or rather more likely cabin number due to the “lodge” part.

‘Do you think that jacket belongs to whoever did this?’ Castiel asked, squinting suspiciously at the paper.

‘I’d bet on it,’ said Aroura.

‘And even if it doesn’t, it belongs to someone who knows someone who’s been to this house. They might know something about who might have motive to do something like this,’ added Sam.

‘That’s a whole lot of someone’s and something’s,’ Dean muttered darkly, thinking that mystery and not being in the know wasn’t always a good thing. ‘We can check it out later. When we finish up here.’

‘I’ll transport us all there, if you like,’ Aroura offered helpfully, her blue eyes big and looking like those on an innocent doe.

‘I need a car,’ said Dean.

‘We could hijack one while we’re there,’ Sam suggested.

‘I’d rather have mine,’ Dean muttered. ‘I trust it more. Fill it with stuff we might need on a case to take out whoever took God himself out of the game.’

‘I can’t transport cars,’ Aroura said uncomfortably, biting her bottom lip. ‘Just people.’

‘You two could go ahead and transport there today and Dean and I could stay behind and drive there,’ Castiel suggested, seeming like he was optimistic about his idea. ‘You could … scope out whoever’s there, as I’ve heard people say.’

He directed it at Sam and Aroura with his eyebrows raised and his expression calm.

‘That’s over a day’s drive from the bunker,’ Sam pointed out.

‘I’m up for it if Cas is,’ Dean said with a shrug. ‘You two can get a lead on whoever and see what we could be working with, we’ll bring weapons and other crap we could use.’

‘I’m good with that,’ said Sam, nodding thoughtfully. ‘Aroura?’

‘As am I,’ Aroura confirmed. ‘We’ll need weapons. As The Savior of The Holy One, I can destroy someone with a single touch, but now that Lucifer and The Darkness are no more, I have no reason and therefore no ability to manifest either of those beings. And I’m not much of a fighter, even with a weapon to wield. But I can track, and watch, and transport, and I can spot a demon or an angel as well as the former or the latter can.’

‘Then it’s settled,’ Sam decided, putting a hand on Aroura’s shoulder. ‘We just have to …’

He gestured the rolled up masses on the floor. Castiel shifted unconsciously closer to Dean and their hands found each other automatically.

‘Let’s do it,’ said Dean, for both of them.

They didn’t waste time lingering inside. They got the bodies out back and set them on fire almost immediately. No one spoke about the fallen, no one could think of a thing to say. For most of the time they’d known the three there’d been a prophet, a trickster and a problem. It was unfortunate that both Gabriel and Michael had been a thorn in their sides for so long, where Gabriel had been the only one to redeem himself to them. Michael was pretty much a mystery. And Chuck, well, was God. And that’s all they really knew.

They stayed until the last fire burned itself out, restarting it each time it did until nothing was left but ash. Rather than leaving it in a pile, Sam went into the house and found a receptacle for it and got as much of the ash into the tin he’d found as possible.

‘You guys should scatter it into the wind out the window of the Impala or something,’ Sam suggested, handing the large tin which had apparently once held coal over to Cas, who took it and held onto it with a nod.

‘That’s a good idea,’ Castiel noted. ‘Scattering it in the wind is better than leaving it here or burying it somewhere insignificant.’

‘We should head out to that lodge now,’ said Dean, throwing his arm around Cas’s shoulders. ‘So, if you don’t mind …’

He gestured Aroura. She nodded in understanding, and then they were in the bunker in the long tabled room. Castiel placed the tin of ashes down on the table.

‘We’ll go grab some extra clothes and head out to that place,’ said Sam, already heading for the door.

‘Could you two leave out some extra food for Shrek in case we don’t make it back tomorrow?’ Aroura requested.

‘I’ll do it,’ Castiel promised.

‘And there’s some absorbent pads in a bag in his room, you lay them out and they’re like a litter tray but for dogs.’

Cas nodded. Aroura smiled her innocent, child-like smile and slipped out behind Sam.

‘Should we pack a bag?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows once they were alone.

‘It’s best if we leave as soon as possible,’ Castiel answered with a nod.

They ran into Sam and Aroura on the way to their bedroom and said their parting words. They’d see them again in closer to two days than one, hopefully with info on who or what was in that cabin or room from the note in the jacket. Before they left, Dean and Cas threw everything they’d need in a bag, fed Freckles again, did what Aroura asked to be done for Shrek, grabbed all the weaponry they needed and then they were on the road with the radio low and a tin of ashes in hand, which Castiel held to the open window as soon as they were on an open road, virtually alone apart from one car far up ahead of them in the distance.

Dean always drove fast, so there was plenty of wind generated behind them as they cut through the open air. The tin of ashes was empty in no time and both Dean and Castiel glanced behind them as they last of it vanished from their sight, some of it to rest on the road and some to be caught in other breezes and whisked away to get stuck in grass or trees, all of it to be eventually washed away by nature. A good place for the final pieces of God and two angels to lie. Something that wasn’t man made, but purely created itself growing from the grounds of the Earth God had form through all the evolution over billions of years, from the beginning of the universe to now.

There wasn’t much to talk about. It would probably take a while into the drive until they could once again treat this like any other case, any other car journey and any other day. They’d been fluctuating all day between normal and something more, something tense, something dire. Castiel read while Dean hummed along to one of his tapes, staring at the expanding road ahead and calculating in his head the fastest route to take, hoping there’d be some motel along the roadside come nightfall to spend a few hours in so they didn’t have to sleep in the car. Dean thought to himself that he’d be perfectly okay with going well over a day without sleep, he’d done it many times before, but he also knew that Castiel would likely disapprove and want him to rest. You won’t be at your best, he’d say, or something to that accord. We can’t even begin to hope for the best outcome for this case if we’re short on sleep …

Dean glanced over at Cas as he drove, allowing a small smile to form when he looked at the concentration on Cas’s face as he read, yet he still managed, with that concentration there, to look like he was relaxed. Yet there was tension in his shoulders and the way he held himself that wasn’t showing in his expression … he really didn’t look like he was enjoying the circumstances that caused their journey to Maine … but who would expect him to, of course. Dean just wished he could see what Cas was thinking. And he wished there were words that existed that could shed light on what had happened so suddenly, leaving them the only ones to be able to take care of it.

After a little over an hour, Castiel seemed to fully relax. His tense shoulders rested back against the seat and his face looked like he was reading with more ease, like he didn’t have to concentrate on the words to get other thoughts out of his head. Another half hour of relaxed reading and he closed his book with a thoughtful look on his face.

‘Moose River,’ he said to himself, then glanced over at Dean. ‘It’s a strange name for a place, don’t you think?’

‘I think it’s named after Big Moose Lake,’ Dean told him. ‘Or maybe the river.  Since “River” is in the name of the town.’

‘But are there moose in Maine?’ Castiel questioned, tilting his head as he watched Dean think about it.

‘I think so,’ Dean replied carefully, then lightly added, ‘it’s right up there near Canada. but you never know. The town could actually be named after Sam. Maybe he sneaks out at night to rule over his small-town subjects.’

Castiel laughed, looking down, then set his eyes road ahead. Another question occurred to him.

‘Why do people call Sam “Moose”?’

‘I think it started because he’s around the same height as an average moose,’ Dean shrugged, after thinking about it. ‘But then Crowley started calling us Moose and Squirrel and that’s a reference to some old cartoon.’

‘Oh.’

Castiel was silent for a while after that. They drove on with nothing but the radio making noise, that and the purr of the engine, but Cas didn’t open his book and get back to reading. A thoughtful expression remained set into his features that didn’t change every time Dean glanced at him. Eventually, he spoke again.

‘Dean?’

‘Yeah?’

‘In your opinion, is the plural of moose better as moose or would it be better if it was meese, as in goose and geese?’

Dean paused. It was a long pause.

‘Mooses.’

‘What?’

‘Mooses. I think that’d be a better plural.’

‘I didn’t give you that option.’

‘I don’t care. I like mooses.’

Castiel smiled. He tried to keep his expression to just that, a simple smile, but it couldn’t be prevented from stretching wider and making his eyes light up when he saw the determined smirk on Dean’s face, showing that Dean knew that he was being cute with that sly third option and wanted Cas to know it too.

‘Perhaps it would be best if we restricted ourselves to using only the correct plural of moose, which also happens to be the singular,’ Castiel suggested, staring dreamily at Dean’s once-rare smile.

‘Yeah, maybe we’d be better off with that,’ Dean agreed, throwing in a slight cackle to himself at the end, trying to stop himself from full-on laughing. He sighed, placed his hand on Cas’s knee and declared, ‘you make me laugh, man. You’re the only one who can do it so well.’

‘I’m not even trying,’ Cas admitted, putting his hand on top of Dean’s and locking their fingers together like he always did. ‘But I enjoy your laughter. It’s a welcome gift after its absence for so many years.’

Dean’s next smile was shy.

‘I almost forgot what it was like,’ he said quietly, ‘to be able to laugh so easily at things. You make everything easier.’

‘As do you,’ Castiel replied, squeezing Dean’s hand, an automatic gesture that was once completely foreign to him. ‘I can’t even imagine today’s occurrences happening during a time where you and I weren’t together. They would be considerably more difficult. And I don’t even want to try and think of how difficult the slow yet somehow rapid process of becoming human would have been without you to help me get through it …’

‘Then don’t,’ Dean suggested, lifting their hands together and bringing them back down to give Cas’s knee a determined, encouraging pat. ‘Think about how Sam will finally be at home at Moose River, standing tall and ruling his subjects. King of the Mooses!’

‘King of the _Meese_.’

‘Meeses?’ Dean suggested playfully. He saw the “I’m about to roll my eyes at you” look flash on Cas’s face and backtracked, ‘okay, okay, never mind. Agree to disagree?’

‘I think that would be wise,’ Castiel nodded, accepting Dean’s terms.

From then on, the car journey got easier too. Dean turned the radio up louder. Cas got into a more comfortable position as he read, on and off. They stopped several hours later to refresh and grab a snack, then drove a few more hours before they found a motel in a town they passed through to spend the night. They checked in with Sam once they were in their room and he informed them that he and Aroura had gotten a cabin in the same lodge as the note from the jacket, but hadn’t seen anyone enter or exit the cabin on the note. They’d keep looking, though, he promised, and update them if there was anything to be updated on.

They left again early in the morning after a light breakfast, plus they grabbed some snacks for if they got hungry on the road. If they pushed on and drove into the small hours of the night, they could make it without stopping another night, so they chose to persevere and ride it out and go straight to bed. When they awoke in the morning, they could join Sam and Aroura on their watches and make a plan of action to investigate whoever was staying in the room. They needed to find the owner of that jacket.

When they met Sam the next morning for breakfast, it was to no further news from them. They had as little info on the person staying in the room as they’d had before they came, even after talking to the person who’d checked her – it was definitely a female – in. All they got was that it was a dark haired female who’d checked in as Jane Doe, the fakest of fake names, and was paying cash.

‘But how is she paying cash if she never leaves the place?’ Dean asked, puzzled at the very thought of it.

‘The guy says she does, that’s what’s odd,’ Sam told him. ‘He said that she pays him upfront every morning between nine and noon. But we’ve stared at her door almost constantly since we’re been here, Aroura’s there _now_ , and it never opens.’

Castiel frowned at the table, thinking to himself. He hadn’t taken much part in the conversation, but had listened closely to everything that had been said, pairing it with other things discussed prior to their arrival in town, and come to his own conclusion.

‘Demons don’t need to use doors,’ he stated.

‘Because they can just … pop in and out of wherever they want?’ Sam questioned, seeing where he was going with it.

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘And you and Aroura previously theorized that it could be Ruby who did … what was done. And even if it’s not her, we can’t rule out another demon or demon-like creature. Who else would have reason to want to rid the world of God and two arch angels?’

‘That’s a good point,’ Sam acknowledged, a slight frown forming as he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it. ‘So watching the door will get us nowhere. We need to get _inside_.’

‘So what?’ Dean asked. ‘We break in, guns blazing, and see what’s in there?’

‘I have a better idea,’ Cas said suddenly, placing a hand on Dean’s arm unconsciously to quell any further comments Dean may have wanted to share. ‘Sam. What did you say that made the man that checked her in give you the information you got from him?’

‘I said I was FBI,’ Sam told him. ‘But I didn’t say she was in trouble or anything like that. I said she might be someone we’re looking for and that I needed all the information he could give me. He was happy to help.’

Castiel nodded appreciatively.

‘Do you think you could convince him to call you the next time she pays him?’

‘Probably … why?’

‘While she’s out we could break into her cabin an see if we can find any clues as to what we’re dealing with, and we’ll have the advantage of being already in the room and ready when she returns.’

‘That’s not a bad plan,’ said Dean, raising his eyebrows as if surprised. ‘We could even split up. Have the guy stall her, see if one of us can go get a look at who we’re dealing with and see if it’s anyone we recognize, tell the ones waiting when she’s on her way back …’

‘… and follow her to where she walks before she pops back in, covering her from behind if she tries to run …’

‘We could put a devil’s trap on the ceiling just inside the door, for if she _is_ a demon, under all the rugs, everywhere there’s a space she could pop into,’ Sam added, looking pleased and impressed by the plan so far. Then he grinned, looked at Cas and declared, ‘Cas, you’re a genius.’

Dean beamed proudly and slapped Cas on the shoulder.

‘Do I know how to pick ’em, or what?’ he asked, throwing his arm around Cas’s shoulders and looking at the pleased look on Cas’s face accompanied by a self-satisfied and slightly shy smile.

‘Technically he picked you. You know. From hell,’ Sam pointed out.

‘Technically that was God,’ Castiel added.

‘Ah, God,’ Dean sighed fondly. ‘What a matchmaker.’

‘Sure,’ said Sam, eye roll accompanying. ‘So are we heading back to make a start on this or what?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean muttered. ‘As soon as we pay for breakfast. Speaking of paying, demon chick must be loaded. That damn cabin we got is _expensive_.’

‘It’s not like you’re paying cash,’ said Sam. ‘It’s not like you’re _paying_ at all with those credit cards. And one twenty five a night is pretty good for a cabin that can have up to six people staying in it.’

‘Six?’ Dean asked raising his eyebrows.

‘Didn’t you listen when you checked in?’

‘Not really. It was late. I was tired’

‘Typical,’ said Sam, with another eye roll. ‘If _not paying_ that amount bugs you so much, you can always take the upstairs of mine and Aroura’s cabin. There’s a choice of two different beds up there.’

‘I’ll pass,’ said Dean. ‘The bunker is one thing, it’s big, but I’d rather not spend time with you two in a confined space.’

‘If our plan to confront this maybe-demon goes well, I doubt we’ll have to spend much longer here anyway,’ Castiel chipped in.

‘Yeah, that’s a good point,’ Dean nodded. ‘So come on. Let’s get this show on the road.’


	32. I Am Coming

Sam was very good at influencing the man with the information. The guy was tiny, over a foot shorter than Sam was, so it was easy to see how he was intimidated by this enormous FBI guy who was likely part moose, at one with the wild creatures that freely roamed the area, occasionally to be spotted in a field or trecking through the snow which wasn’t falling, but was still lining the ground in a layer of medium thickness.

Once they got him on board, they went off to find Aroura and clue her in on the plan, but on red alert for a message from the man. They readied their supplies for devil’s-trapping the cabin and grabbed holy water, the demon killing knife and Cas’s angel blade which he now kept with all of the other weapons, along with a number of other concealable weapons so they’d all be armed and protected if something were to go wrong. And then it was time to play the waiting game, sitting together in one cabin, barely talking, Sam’s phone on the table in front of them about to buzz at any moment.

They were waiting a half hour when they got the alert that it was paying time. Sam, Dean and Castiel went to the cabin right away. Aroura went to lurk near their most-likely God-killer, who was being stalled as she paid. Aroura would give a signal when it was safe for her to be let go and she’d know when to give the signal when she received a text from Sam telling her that the cabin was rigged and ready.

Things proceeded at a rapid pace. The stalling was simple, and whoever it was (Aroura only had a back view) was happy to exchange frivolous small talk, but seemed to want to keep things private when it came to more probing questions. She sounded more and more bored as time went on and Aroura was certain she was about to leave when she finally got the all clear and signaled that it was time to wrap things up. After some goodbyes, the woman whipped around and Aroura caught a glimpse at last: definitely Ruby, definitely heading for the door. Aroura headed after her a few paces behind and by the time she got through the door, Ruby was already gone. It seemed that there was no other business she took care of on these outings, unless she just didn’t bother with walking there … but with no idea of where else Ruby could have gone besides back to her cabin, that’s where Aroura went too to discover that she was exactly right.

The devil’s traps were placed well. Ruby was caught right in the center of one, her arms folded across her chest with a partially bored and partially surprised reaction to the three men in front of her with dire and threatening looks. She had yet to notice Aroura had appeared behind her. She heaved a sigh, and looked at the face of each of the three in front of her in turn.

‘Let me guess. You’ve been trailing me somehow since that ritual.’

‘Guess again,’ Dean suggested.

‘You noticed your brother is a moose and looked for a place with moose in it’s name?’ Ruby asked, raising an eyebrow and looking up at Sam. She looked as though she was annoyed with him – she probably was, for letting Dean kill her that first time.

‘Ha ha,’ Sam said flatly. ‘Let me guess. You’ve been talking to Crowley.’

‘More like a friend of his,’ Ruby replied coolly. She slid her gaze away from Sam, and onto Cas, where she shifted her eyes up and down his form. She looked away, then back at the brothers. ‘So you got the angel to shed his coat,’ she noted, then, double taking, she added, ‘and his grace. How’d that happen?’

‘None of your business,’ Dean snapped at her, taking a step closer to Cas unconsciously, and flexing his grip around the knife at his side.

‘Oh, I forgot,’ Ruby sighed, seemingly at ease, ‘you’re touchy when it comes to the angel. Seems like that hasn’t changed. So, Sam,’ he detoured, looking at Sam once again, ‘still addicted to blood or did you manage to kick the habit?’

‘I managed,’ Sam said stiffly, though his demeanor was more pissed than stiff. ‘Not that it’s anything to you since it was your fault.’

‘Oh please. You wanted it. Do you seriously think _I_ wanted your slobbering moose mouth all over me?’

‘Well you seemed pretty –’

‘Could we possibly skip arguments stemming from fouls past and get down to why we’re here?’ Castiel interrupted, glancing over at Sam who fell silent with a slight look of guilt, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘Why _are_ you here?’ Ruby challenged, fixing Cas with a look that matched her tone, her determined and exigent expression unwavering, as if set in stone.

‘We have something of yours that had this address in it,’ Castiel told her humorlessly.

‘Oh yeah, and what’s that?’

‘This,’ said Aroura, frightening Ruby as she spoke, causing her to whip around as Aroura pulled off the leather jacket she’d been wearing since her arrival in the area in the hopes that the owner was around and would recognize it.

‘That’s my jacket,’ Ruby stated, proceeding forward only to be pushed back when she reached the edge of the trap. ‘Why do you have my jacket?’

‘We found it,’ said Sam. ‘At the scene of the crime.’

‘Crime …?’ Ruby questioned, looking all around her now like she was waiting for an explanation. ‘You mean I left it at one of the places I did the ritual?’

‘No,’ Dean responded. ‘Actually that whole ritual wasn’t so much of a crime as a helping hand. In the end everyone ended up alive, except Lucifer.’

‘Lucifer’s _dead_?’

‘Like you don’t know,’ Aroura scoffed from behind her.

‘Lucifer’s dead,’ Dean confirmed, condescendingly.

‘And so is God,’ Castiel added. ‘And your jacket was found right by where he and two angels died.’

‘God _died_?’ She looked genuinely shocked, now that she knew what she was being accused of, why the faces around her looked so intimidating. She put her hands up in front of her defensively, stuttering, ‘look, man, I don’t even know where– I didn’t even know that God– I don’t know how my jacket– _I_ didn’t do it, I don’t know who, but it _wasn’t_ me.’

‘Then why,’ Aroura questioned, as she wandered over to the couch and reached under the cushions, ‘do you have _this_?’

She pulled out a long, dark colored blade, with glistening jewels on the hilt. She slowly walked back over to her spot behind Ruby, who was now staring at her and the weapon with eyes full of disbelief.

‘That’s a weapon of heaven,’ Castiel muttered.

‘I’ve never seen that before,’ Ruby insisted, in complete terror. She knew there was no escape – the jacket, the weapon, the crime, her presence at the ritual and her resurrection.

‘What, Cas?’ Dean asked, over Ruby’s claim.

‘That’s a weapon of heaven,’ Castiel repeated, more loudly this time. ‘One I’ve heard of, but never believed existed.’

‘What does it do?’ Sam asked.

‘It’s believed to be the only thing, besides God’s own sister, that can kill him.’ He looked over at Aroura, with still disbelieving eyes. ‘How did you know that was there?’

‘I could …’ Aroura frowned, looking as though, like a lot of things of this nature did, it made her feel some discomfort. ‘Feel it? I’m not sure. It’s probably a savior thing.’

‘Savior?’ Ruby echoed in a question, but no one paid any attention to her.

‘Well there’s the proof it was her. So, should we …?’ Dean asked, holding up the demon knife he was holding, originally gotten from Ruby herself, ironically enough.

‘Go for it,’ Sam nodded.

Dean took a step forward, hesitating, then took a step back. He looked at Cas, who was holding an angel blade, then gestured for him to take his place.

‘What?’ Castiel asked, clearly thinking he was misreading the gesture.

‘She killed your kind,’ Dean stated simply. ‘You should do the honors.’

Castiel smiled at him slightly, a smile of appreciation rather than enjoyment of what he was getting to do, and stepped forward into the devil’s trap. Ruby backed up towards the opposite side, frantically saying ‘please, it wasn’t me’ over and over until he was almost next to her with the blade raised. In a last, desperate attempt at something, she turned around to face Aroura.

‘Please,’ she begged of her, ‘don’t let him kill me. You _know_ I didn’t do this. Help me, E–’

The blade sunk into her from behind and she dropped to her knees, her eyes brimming with shock. She fell forward when Castiel pulled the blade out and stepped away. Dead. Castiel returned to stand with Sam and Dean, Dean’s arm automatically ending up around Cas’s shoulders.

‘You should burn her,’ Aroura suggested, distastefully stepping back from the hand that had reached out for her ankle in the demon’s last, desperate and delusional dying moments.

‘I’ve got the stuff for it in the car,’ said Dean, clapping Cas’s shoulder as he removed his arm, heading for the door. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

‘I’ll find a rag to clean her blood off the floor,’ said Aroura, stepping away.

‘Well done,’ Sam told Cas, now that they were alone with the body.

‘It should have been you,’ Castiel mused. ‘You had the most history with her.’

‘No,’ Sam denied, shaking his head. ‘You deserved to do it more than me. To avenge your own kind. Like … closure, I guess.’

Castiel nodded. They were silent for a moment, then Castiel tilted his head to the side thoughtfully and looked up at Sam. On a completely different note, he asked, ‘do you think she chose this place in a weak attempt at some form of comedy in reference to the fact that moose is in the title and she knows that Crowley calls you moose?’

At first Sam frowned. Then, after thinking about it for a moment, he laughed a small laugh.

‘Who knows,’ he shrugged, looking as though he was open to that being the reason. ‘Maybe. If it is, I guess I should be flattered that I made that much of an impact on a demon’s life that she’d want to stay in a place that reminds her of me.’

‘Winchesters always seem to make supernatural creatures fall for them,’ Castiel joked. ‘Angels, demons, saviors. You draw in the abnormal like magnets.’

Sam laughed again, just as Aroura returned with some towels.

‘I found these in the bathroom,’ she explained, ‘and we can wrap her up in one of the blankets from the bed to burn her. They’ll think she bailed.’

‘After defacing the place,’ Sam noted, gesturing the various devil’s traps on both ceiling and floor.

‘Devil worshipers,’ Aroura shrugged. ‘What can you do?’

Sam and Cas both chuckled, and got to helping out. Cas got some of the bathroom soap and another towel he dampened in the sink to help clean the blood that had already begun to stain the wooden boards. Sam got a blanket from the bed and began to wrap up the body, just as Dean arrived with what they needed to burn the body. They took her outside to an out of view area, propped her up on some logs and let the flames burn their way right down to the snow. Any leftover evidence such as her belongings and the bloody towels they burned with her, and buried the askes under dirt and snow from the ground.

It was a fast case, easily taken care of, and now they could check out. Sam and Aroura, like their arrival, transported out. Dean and Castiel returned to the Impala, radio on, book in Cas’s hand, windows cracked allowing the icy air to circulate the car just the tiniest of bits, cooling them down after standing so near a naked flame.

‘So I guess that’s that,’ Dean sighed thankfully as they hit the open road. ‘Another case closed.’

‘That does tend to be the way things work,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Someone is killed. The monster is killed. Life goes on.’

‘It just sucks considering who was killed.’

‘I agree,’ Castiel nodded. ‘There were so many questions I had for God, if we were ever to meet again, but now that he’s gone they seem unimportant to the point where I couldn’t even remember all of them.’

‘I guess there are just some things in life we’re never supposed to know.’

‘Yes, I guess there is. Because life is a bitch.’

‘You said it, pal. Life’s the biggest bitch of them all. Well maybe apart from Sam when he’s cranky. He’s pretty huge. And bitchy.’

Cas laughed, leaning all the way back against the seat, then looked at Dean who was smiling mischievously. Cas shifted over as far as he could and leaned in to kiss Dean’s smiling cheek, which was responded to by another smile, the kind Dean always had when Cas did something like that.

‘Do you remember when you said you were going to use condoms as water balloons to throw at him when he annoyed you or something like that?’ Cas asked thoughtfully, the memory coming back to him, casually floating through his mind.

‘Oh yeah, I remember that,’ Dean nodded, as he too recalled it. ‘Next time he bugs me I should do that. I’ll check my calendar and see when his next period is, he’s sure to be bugging me then, so I’ll use that as the perfect opportunity.’

Cas laughed even harder at that and Dean’s mischievous grin returned as Cas cracked up next to him, looking as though he’d start crying at any moment due to the excessive laughter. Dean looked pleased with himself at his attempts at humor, always wanting to lighten the mood so Castiel wouldn’t dwell on the darker stuff, and always warmed by seeing him laugh more in one go than he’d laughed since the day they first met. If Cas was happy, then Dean knew he was doing it right.

The journey home was much like the first one, although with less low points and tense things that occasionally crept upon them and hung in the air. They made more stops to stretch their legs and actually spent a full night in a motel, complete with takeout food and some Netflix and a discussion about whether Cristina’s career really did mean more to her than Owen did, like it had seemed to when she was with Burke, but in this one Owen won out where they both agreed that both her career and Owen were extremely important to her, it seemed as though she had finally found someone more important than work.

Dean didn’t have the heart to tell Cas that Cristina and Owen were going to end up divorced.  

‘So career and Burke went hand in hand,’ Castiel concluded, while laying on his back, at the ceiling with his arms folded across his bare chest. ‘But by the time Owen came, Cristina had developed as a person, and eventually grew and learned to separate work from the other aspects of her life …’

‘And she learned to prioritize what was the most important,’ Dean finished for him, then, dawning upon him suddenly, he continued on a different note, ‘sorta like how … once, not that long ago, all we thought about was saving the world and not caring what damage that did to our relationships, while now …’

‘We save the world as best as we can, and we don’t let it damage what we’ve built in the process,’ Castiel realized with him, rolling onto his side so that the two of them were face to face on top of the covers, the half-closed laptop Dean had brought with them off to the side. ‘For example, in the cage, with Lucifer, any one of us could have said yes if we thought it might help save the world …’

‘But it didn’t, because even if it did help – fat chance that it would have – it would have fucked everything up. Whoever said yes, if it turned out old Luci couldn’t help, then the two that didn’t would be pissed at him for putting himself in danger for no reason. I know if you’d said yes like you told me you were considering … I would have been irrationally angry about it. Probably yelled at you afterwards for doing that, maybe I would have come up with some excuse about why I was so pissed because I would never have been able to tell you how I really felt in a situation like that.’

‘I know,’ Castiel said, somewhat sadly. ‘I would have been angry with myself, had I said yes, and Lucifer done nothing to help stop The Darkness. However, if he had helped, I’d like to think that you, and Sam, you’d have been pleased.’

‘I would be been _proud_ ,’ Dean corrected, reaching forward and running his hand along Cas’s arm. ‘You being the only one out of us brave enough to take that risk and it working out … pissed off that you didn’t talk to us about it first, maybe a little hurt you didn’t at least talk to _me_ about it first, and so fucking sad that you thought Sam and I didn’t care about you enough to care about you saying yes in the first place …’

‘But we’ve talked about this,’ Castiel cut him off, scooting closer to him across the bed. ‘And we’ve talked about how I came to the realization, or at the time the hope, that you would care as much as I would have if the situation were to be reversed.’

‘We have,’ Dean nodded, meeting his eyes determinedly. ‘Which is why we don’t need to talk about the shit that makes us sad all over again. Besides –’ he began to question, pushing himself up on his elbow, ‘how the fuck did we even end up talking about this? We were talking about Owen and Cristina.’

‘You started it,’ Cas pointed out.

‘Did I?’ Dean asked, then remembered. ‘Shit. I did. Right. Let’s change the subject.’

‘To what?’ Castiel asked, significantly more brightly than the somber tones they’d been speaking in before.

Dean shrugged.

‘Anything. You pick. I’m all ears.’

He sat up straight, leaning back, and looked down at Cas with a look of concentration, as if prepared for anything. Castiel, suddenly looking at Dean in a way he hadn’t in days, not since before the whole death-of-God thing, smirked and got onto his knees. He reached for Dean’s laptop and closed it completely, then leaned over the edge of the bed to place it safely on the floor. He straightened up on his knees once again, and then perched right by Dean. Dean’s eyebrows quirked. Cas’s lips mimicked, before he placed them softly on Dean’s.

Dean chuckled, smirking beneath the kiss. He slowly let his hands wander up Cas’s sides, causing Cas to shiver slightly due to the minimal tickling sensation caused by Dean’s light brushing finger tips, which subsided when Dean placed his hands solidly on Cas’s sides around the top of his ribcage and slowly let them slide down, his palms warm, but not as warm as Cas’s skin, towards his hips. Castiel’s hands were on Dean’s face, one thumb slowly tracing his jawline, while the other hand inched around to the back of his neck and then crawled upwards towards the back of his head, up towards the top, to grab at and get his fingers laced through Dean’s hair, messing it up in the process. By now he had climbed on top of Dean, straddling him, feeling him harden beneath him.

And then Dean let out a whine, but not the good kind.

Castiel pulled back immediately.

‘Is something wrong?’ he asked worriedly.

‘No,’ Dean assured him, hearing the tone, then cringed. ‘It’s just that … when I was throwing shit in the trunk, I didn’t think … I threw in stuff we might need, weapons, computer for research, spare clothes in case it gets bloody … but … the lube is still at home in the drawer of the bedside table.’

Cas laughed.

‘That’s understandable,’ he comprehended, nodding accordingly. ‘It’s not as though it was something to be thought about in the moment, despite being missed in this one.’

‘Sorry,’ Dean offered guiltily, smiling awkwardly, but at the same time aching right beneath where Cas was perched.

Castiel paused for a moment, considering. Then he smiled, a smile that was most definitely more on darker, twisted side, which made the ache Dean felt increase and also made him start to wonder whether using spit would suffice … then he remembered the last time he’d done that. _Nope_. Mistakes we definitely made that day … but it seemed Cas had other plans, which would suffice for now.

‘There’s more than one place one can put a penis, you know,’ Castiel pointed out slyly, trailing his finger up Dean’s chest, along his neck where his Adam’s apple quivered, over his chin and onto his lips, which parted, allowing Cas’s finger to slip inside.

Dean kissed the tip of Cas’s finger and smirked, getting the gist.

‘I’ll suck yours if you suck mine.’

Castiel’s grin was practically evil.

‘Take off your pants.’

It was a welcome relief after days of stress; God’s death, driving, who the fuck is in that cabin, it’s Ruby, stab stab, driving … it signaled that the case was over, although it did seem rushed. God died. They took out the demon that killed him. That was that – it all seemed too easy, too rushed, and the repetitiveness of how they mentioned this, or thought it, over and over again, was making it all seem suspicious where it wasn’t, but could have been, because they just didn’t _trust_ this. It was all too easy, yet all made sense in a way that was overly complicated … which seemed about right for them.

At least the world made sense as Dean lay on his back with his legs spread, pleasure shooting up through him slowly, then quickly, then painfully slowly again, while simultaneously he hoped he was doing the same thing for Cas – they were in yet another of the positions Cas had mentioned he’d wanted to try out having seen it on the internet, and Dean was grateful for whatever the hell Cas had been searching, and at the same time was harboring a slight desire to take a peek at his search history … although the passing thoughts that harbored that desire didn’t come until they were side by side once again, breathless from both climaxing and the restricted breathing caused by the activity.

‘Who needs lube,’ was Dean’s first statement as he wiped his lower lip with his thumb to get rid of some of the moisture from it. He rubbed his jaw where it was becoming slightly stiff, it having been clenched for so long while his cheeks were hollowed. ‘Seriously. Who fucking needs it. It’s hard to believe that a few weeks ago you’d never even touched a dick and now you deep throat like a pro.’

‘I don’t believe there’s a profession in the field of sucking dick,’ Castiel frowned, though Dean could tell he was clearly joking. ‘Although I appreciate your compliment. I would attribute the skill to having a great subject to practice on.’

‘It doesn’t seem like you need much practice,’ Dean pointed out, rolling over to face Cas’s profile. ‘But I’m always up for it. Pun intended.’

‘Being _always_ up for it sounds like it would be painful,’ Castiel commented jokingly, turning so that they were facing each other. ‘Though your enthusiasm does a lot to boost my confidence … and get it up.’

Dean almost accidentally full-on snorted as he rolled forward and buried his face in Cas’s chest. Just a little over a month ago they were walking circles around each other, and now they were laying naked on top of the covers in some motel bed, making fucking _dick puns._

‘Yeah, a lack of confidence can be real _hard on_ a person.’

‘It may even make them seem stiff.’

‘Turn things into a, as the British may say –’ and then, in a fucking terrible English accent, ‘ _cock up_.’

‘That _wood_ be terrible. Like that accent,’ Cas added thoughtfully, after his attempt at a word-replacement type of word-play instead of a straight up pun.

Dean paused for longer than usual.

‘… Penis,’ he said lamely, rolling back onto his back. ‘That’s it. I’m all tapped out.’

‘After only _one_ sexual act? Dean, I don’t want to worry you, but maybe that’s something you should be worried about.’

Dean chuckled, proud of Cas’s puns and jokes and how far he had come, that last thought being a possible attempt at a pun running through his brain that made him laugh again, to himself this time.

‘Don’t worry. I’m not in that pre _dick_ ament. But I _am_ tired, and we’ve got a lot of driving to do tomorrow.’

‘That’s unfortunate,’ Castiel teased sadly, running a finger up Dean’s inner thigh and making his dick twitch slightly, beyond his control. Cas smirked. ‘But I agree. We should get some sleep. We don’t know what could be waiting for us upon our return to the bunker. Maybe there’s some more grave news.’

‘I hope not,’ Dean muttered, catching Cas’s hand before it travelled too far sideways for Dean to have any say in what his body did in response to what happened next. ‘I swear, when we get home, all I want to do is sleep, eat and fuck for a week. It’s been one disaster after another. We deserve a break longer than a few days before someone else fucking kicks it – sorry for that sounding so harsh,’ he backtracked quickly.

‘That’s alright,’ said Cas. ‘I know you didn’t mean it that way – and I agree. Although this may not have been a particularly lengthy case like the ritual involving all of the deaths and resurrections, these past weeks have been particularly stressful. Perhaps it _is_ time for a week off.’

‘It’ll give you time to catch up on Grey’s,’ Dean pointed out.

‘That’s always a bonus,’ Castiel agreed.

‘A pretty big one if you ask me – _stop it_ ,’ Dean warned, feeling Cas’s hand trapped within his own start moving towards a place it shouldn’t have been if they were supposed to be going to bed.

‘I’m sorry,’ Cas replied, though he didn’t sound like he meant it and was smirking when he said it. He slipped his hand out of Dean’s and pushed himself up, saying, ‘I’ll be right back.’

‘Don’t take too long,’ Dean complained, and then when Cas was halfway towards the bathroom, asked, ‘was the accent really “terrible”?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied simply, before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

‘Was not,’ Dean muttered sulkily to himself as he slipped naked beneath the sheets and stared moodily at the closed door the man who had just insulted him was lurking behind.

As soon as Cas reappeared, though, Dean’s anger began to fade and had vanished by the time Castiel joined him under the covers, like Dean, not bothering to throw on any clothing. The sheets were made of a type of material that, were one to sleep clothed, they’d wake up thinking they were taking a lava bath with Satan due to the uncomfortable heat. Dean had slept beneath sheets of this kind in motels many times before and, on some mornings when violently awoken by Sam, (meaning a shake of the shoulder and a ‘dude, wake up,’) he’d woken up almost convinced he’d woken up back in hell, his shirt clinging to him and his skin feeling like it could fry their breakfast.

They were the kind of sheets that made so much noise when you sat down that everyone on your floor could hear it – as Dean noted when Cas moved around at his side, trying to get comfortable. Castiel noted it too, frowning at the noise it made, until he finally settled in at Dean’s side and sought his hand out under the covers.

‘Goodnight, Dean,’ said Cas, causing the sheets disruption once more as he leaned over to softly kiss Dean’s cheekbone, jaw, then shoulder.

‘Night, Cas,’ Dean replied, feeling the places Cas had kissed tingle despite knowing he should be over that phantom sensation by now.

In the morning, as expected with these sheets, they were a tangled ball of hot sweaty mess and their legs were twisted in the sheets so much that it took almost a full minute to kick the shit off while groaning and frustrated. At last, with less noise than it made when you sat on it, it hit the floor with a soft _flump_.

‘I fucking hate polyester,’ was the first thing Dean said that morning.

Thankfully the rest of the day went better, give or take an accidental elbowing or two in the small shower. But breakfast was good, and the duo made sure to note that from now on, when going on the road and most likely having to stay in the worst kind of motels, they should bring a blanket just in case from now on. Better shivering but together under one light blanket than dying and throwing the covers around while getting tangled in it all night.

It was another day on the road, another day of driving pushed through until late at night to avoid another overnight stop. When they got home they were tired and hungry, but luckily Sam had shopped, so they shared some toaster waffles in the middle of the night so they wouldn’t have to wait for the oven or microwave to churn out a ready meal. And then they stumbled off to bed, Cas giving Freckles a fleeting wave on the way.

In the morning, they were refreshed, and just glad to be waking up in their own bed, not feeling like a creature made of lava was slowly caressing their legs and breathing clammy breath on their necks. They awoke late – overtired after a restless night’s sleep the night in the motel, plus overtired from two inactive days of driving, and honestly just tired in general – the God thing, the Ruby thing, it took a lot out of them for such a simple case.

Dean woke first. He noted Cas was still out like a blown lightbulb, figured he shouldn’t wake him, and with a groggy groan rolled out of bed to sit on the edge. He composed himself a moment, let his eyes adjust, then slipped on a shirt and some sweats from one of his drawers. There was no point in getting dressed right away, he wasn’t going anywhere and wasn’t hopping straight into the shower as was usual. He just needed something to settle his stomach – late night toaster waffles when you’re starving isn’t usually the best idea – and something to moisten his dry throat. After slipping on his slippers at the door and making a detour to the bathroom, splashing water on his face before he left, he headed for the kitchen, realizing he probably felt shitty because he slept too long, yet not long enough for his mental exhaustion caused by recent events, paused and distracted from thanks to Cas.

Sam was in the kitchen when Dean entered, just about to – thank every fucking god left – brew up a new pot of coffee. It looked to be shortly before noon, meaning Sam was likely just out of the shower after his morning jog. He did look mildly damp, but Dean paid more attention to the coffee pot in his hand.

‘Make it strong,’ came Dean’s morning greeting, on the way to the fridge to drink milk straight out of the carton, a habit that bugged Sam a fact that that Dean really didn’t care about.

‘You look awful,’ was Sam’s ever-so-complimentary reply.

‘Two days of driving and a motel with demon sheets will do that to a guy,’ Dean grunted, in between taking long draughts from the nearly empty milk carton and finishing it. Due to Sam’s recent shop, however, there was another two full ones with expiration dates a week into the future there, sealed and just waiting to be cracked open.

‘Polyester?’ Sam presumed.

‘Poly _fester_. As in festering fucking heat. Cas kicked me twice trying to get the covers off, and I’d rather the kicks than the covers.’

‘Sounds like you had a good time.’

‘Oh, the first day was fine,’ Dean assured, fixing himself a bowl of cereal, ‘but the second day and the night before it from the second we got under those covers – I hate shitty motels. How did we live like that before we found this place?’

‘With you complaining a lot, refusing to sleep in B and B’s if they were too flowery, refusing to sleep in a motel room with the tiniest spider in it, and taking turns driving so we could sleep in the car?’

‘Oh, right,’ Dean muttered, slouching at the table. ‘I’m getting too old for this.’

‘Older than yesterday,’ Sam said brightly, then quickly toned it down when he saw the “not now” look Dean shot at him. ‘Okay. Still not a morning person. Got it.’

‘I’m just glad to be back,’ Dean mumbled.

‘Clearly,’ Sam replied. ‘Back to your fully furnished bedroom and your long showers and your fish. How domestic.’

‘Ha ha,’ Dean replied, not amused. ‘Speaking of domestic, where’s your wife?’

‘Not my wife, but she’s walking the dog.’

‘Yeah, and _I’m_ domestic.’

‘Speaking of Aroura,’ Sam slid easily into another topic, ‘she and I were thinking of taking a break for a few days.’

‘Yeah, I thought of that too,’ Dean agreed. ‘This month, man. Everything since Christmas. It’s messed up. Cas and me talked about taking a week to just … wind down. Watch some shit on TV, lay around for a while.’

‘Aroura and I discussed the two of us taking a trip to her place, maybe meet up with her family,’ Sam nodded, dropping what seemed like a bomb to him into casual conversation and studying Dean’s reaction.

‘Meeting the parents?’ Dean asked, with raised eyebrows. ‘Good luck.’

‘Grandparents, actually,’ Sam corrected unnecessarily, it hardly mattered, ‘but thank you.’

‘Any time.’

‘And you’re cool with it?’

‘Cool with …?’

‘Us going away.’

‘It’s your life, man,’ Dean shrugged, grabbing at last for the coffee that Sam put down in front of him and drinking from it like it was the fountain of youth. ‘Do whatever,’ he said, when he’d finished drinking almost half the cup. ‘It’s not like we’re joined at the hip, you don’t need my permission to do stuff.’

‘I know,’ Sam said mildly, ‘I just thought I’d run it past you. Maybe I was hoping you’d get down on your knees and beg me not to go because you’d miss me too much.’

Sam flashed a wicked, joking grin which made Dean roll his eyes at him, something he seemed to be doing far too often. Or maybe people were just becoming twice as ridiculous and the eye-rolling wasn’t his fault, but theirs. He liked the latter probability the most, and thought it most likely.

‘Sam, no offence, but I’ll miss the _dog_ more than you.’

‘I thought you didn’t like dogs that much.’

‘No, but I like angels,’ Dean replied simply, ‘and angels like dogs.’

‘Just one angel,’ Castiel corrected, appearing in the doorway behind them and walking, seemingly still tired, to sit beside Dean as if in a trance. ‘And I’m not an angel.’

‘Maybe not, but your presence is a blessing,’ Dean complimented, beaming at Cas and nudging his half-finished coffee towards him, then getting up to get himself another full cup and then refill the one he’d given Cas. ‘And furthermore, on the dog thing, he sheds less.’

Dean proved his last statement true by picking up a long brown hair that was hanging from the edge of the table, and draping it over Sam’s head. Sam smiled, in an annoyed “that’s not funny” kind of way.

‘Then good riddance,’ Sam decided. ‘At least Aroura’s grandparents won’t be sneaking around taking random showers at ten at night when they already showered that morning – yeah, I hear you creeping around out there. The walls are old and wearing thin and the pipes rattle.’

‘Whatever …’ Dean paused, frowning, in search of a comeback, and decided lamely on ‘Sheddy.’

‘Sheddy? Dean. Come on.’

‘… Sheddy McShedface.’

Cas laughed into his cup. Not because it was a particularly great insult, but because it was ridiculous, and Dean sounded even more ridiculous for saying it. Dean took the laughter coming from his right as a sign he’d won the battle.

Or so he thought.

‘You know, if you keep calling me names, you won’t get your birthday present.’

Castiel dropped almost his cup. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!_

‘Cas?’ Dean questioned, noticing Cas’s suddenly horrified expression.

Castiel set the cup down and jumped to his feet immediately.

‘I have to go,’ he declared, walking halfway to the door before looking at Sam and asking, ‘where?’

‘Here,’ said Sam, tossing something, keys it looked like to Dean, at Cas which Cas caught immediately and left the room.

‘What’s up with him?’ Dean questioned, frowning at the doorway. Sam shrugged.

‘So, do you want your present or not?’

Dean rolled his eyes.

‘Sure. Go ahead. Man, I forgot that was today until your comment earlier.’

‘Apparently so did Cas. Here.’

Sam picked up something that was on the seat next to him that he’d seemingly been waiting to give to Dean. There was a rectangular packed gift, about medium thickness and thicker towards the end, wrapped in plain paper, with a card taped to the top of it. Dean slowly picked up the card and looked at it curiously, suspiciously, then up at Sam. There had never before been a card and a wrapped gift. Just a card and bottle of some alcohol or another, or an unwrapped car cleaner, or something practical/drinkable/edible.

Dean opened the envelope and removed the card. And proceeded to give Sam the ultimate pissed off bitch face.

Forty.

In Sam’s hand, using a sharpie, a minus sign and a number three after the number. Dean continued to glare at Sam’s innocent smile as he flipped open the card to the message “haha, you’re old.”

‘Bitch,’ Dean muttered.

‘Almost middle-aged jerk,’ Sam replied.

‘That’s _three years_ away,’ Dean reminded him grumpily. Sam continued innocently smiling. Dean’s expression didn’t change.

‘Now open the gift,’ Sam prompted.

Even more distrusting now, Dean tore at the paper on the gift and pulled it off easily. On top, right there staring up at him, a box of Centrum 50+. Dean managed, if possible, to look even more unamused as he put it aside and under it found a book entitled “Senior Moments Memory Workout.” Finally, Dean lifted the book to reveal the third gift: “Weenie Linguine: Penis Shaped Pasta.”

‘Absolutely fucking _great_ ,’ Dean sarcastically told the Sam who was clearly trying to keep in his laughter. ‘The best presents I’ve ever gotten. I don’t know how I’ve been living without them.’

‘That must be your senior memory acting up,’ Sam said seriously. ‘But no worries. I’ve got you covered.’

He tapped the book, grinning. Dean held up his middle finger. Sam finally started laughing, as Castiel re-entered the room and saw gift wrap on the table. His eyebrows lifted in curiosity.

‘You gave him his presents?’ Cas asked, Sam not having previously allowed him to see what he’d bought for Dean when they went shopping for him together.

‘He says they’re the best he’s ever gotten,’ said Sam, through his laughter.

‘Oh yeah, they’re awesome,’ Dean continued in his sarcasm, holding up the pasta, ‘look at Sam’s oh-so subtle way of telling me to eat a dick.’

‘It’s actually more of a “congratulations, you finally came out” present, but that works too,’ Sam shrugged.

‘What are those?’ Cas asked, retaking his seat from earlier and picking his coffee back up to finish the last of it, while noticing the rest of the stuff on the table.

‘Sam being an ass,’ Dean stated. ‘Look at this fucking card.’

Castiel took the card, looked at the front and read the inside, and allowed himself a small amused smile. He looked back up at Dean and it dropped off at once.

‘That’s … unfair,’ Castiel said with a frown, looking at Sam disapprovingly.

Sam grinned. His grin widened and he added a ‘morning’ when Aroura entered the kitchen and slipped in beside Sam, offering a greeting back. She smiled at Dean when she saw him.

‘Happy birthday, Dean,’ she said sincerely. Dean figured that Sam had told her about it. ‘Did Sam tell you guys about us going away?’

‘No?’ Castiel questioned, frowning at the two of them.

‘Thanks, Aroura,’ said Dean, then looked at Cas. ‘He did. You got here when I was telling him about how I’d miss the dog more than him.’

‘For how long?’ Cas asked.

‘About a week,’ Sam replied. ‘We’re going to visit Aroura’s grandparents.’

‘Oh. In that case, I hope you enjoy yourselves,’ Cas offered, smiling politely.

‘I’m sure we will,’ said Sam.

‘You’re kind to say,’ Aroura smiled at Cas, then spoke to Dean again, saying, ‘I’m sorry we have to leave on your birthday. But I told my grandparents we’d be there around noon.’

‘Sam leaving is the best gift he could ever give me after this crap,’ Dean rectified quickly. ‘I mean, come on. _Look at this_.’

He gestured his gifts again, making Sam start laughing once more. Aroura frowned, noted the 50+ on the Centrum box, and then directed her frown at Sam.

‘That’s unfair,’ she told him, with a small pout in Dean’s defense.

‘Damn straight it’s not fair.’

‘Dean deserves better than this,’ Castiel added.

Sam, heaving a heavy sigh, the most falsely defeated sigh he could muster, stood up and stepped away towards the door.

‘You’re right,’ he said dramatically. ‘I’m a terrible brother. I’ll just go to my room and think about what I’ve done. Don’t go anywhere. Just throw away my thoughtful gifts.’

‘I’m going to keep these to hold over you for the rest of your _life_ ,’ Dean told him, then holding up the pasta he declared, ‘and I’m going to fucking eat this just to spite you.’

‘Dean with dick in his mouth,’ Sam said sassily, now leaning against the doorframe. ‘What else is new?’

‘The new hole after I rip you one!’ Dean called after an unresponsive Sam.

Aroura frowned after him, a slightly confused frown that reminded Dean vaguely of Cas, except nowhere near as cute. Although he did suppose he was biased.

‘He’s up to something,’ she decided.

‘When isn’t he?’ Dean muttered.

Dean pushed himself up too, grabbing his and Cas’s empty cups and taking them over to the sink. He looked over at the coffee pot and noticed there was still enough for one cup left so he offered it to Aroura, who accepted. After bringing her over a cup, he went back to washing the two used ones while Cas mulled over the card again, smiling at the message inside but not daring to laugh at loud as he slid it over to Aroura, who covered her mouth and laughed silently at it.

Dean paused rinsing out a cup. He stayed with his back turned to them, but ominously claimed, ‘I can hear that.’

Aroura silently slid the card back. Cas attempted to leave it in the position Dean had previously left it in. Neither one of them spoke until Sam got back, just as Dean was heading back over to the table.

‘Here, you ungrateful ass,’ said Sam, shoving another something wrapped into Dean’s hands.

Dean frowned up at him.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, turning the thing over in his hands. It was rectangular, seemingly solid and the same width and length all the way through.

‘Your _actual_ present. I thought I’d make an effort this year since you actually have a TV to watch them on.’

Dean frowned again. One of his hands hovered over the paper, about to tear into it, when he stopped and gave Sam a suspicious look.

‘Is it gay porn?’

Sam rolled his eyes.

‘No, Dean. It’s not gay porn.’

‘Is it _straight_ porn?’

‘Are you going to open it or do you want me to take it back?’

Dean hesitated another second, then decided he should at least give whatever it was a try. He ripped off the paper, then almost dropped what he was holding. Three DVDs. Three _Swayze_ DVDs. Three of his _favorite Swayze movies._ Dean slowly looked back up at the awaiting moose that stood before him.

‘You know, you might just be on your way to getting the top spot as my favorite brother for this,’ he said, casual as ever, careful not to show how much he was screaming internally about the fact that tonight, fuck Grey’s Anatomy, he was going to watch Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey fall in love and dance their nights away.

Not that he liked chick flicks.

But he really fucking liked chick flicks.

‘I’m your only brother,’ Sam pointed out.

‘There’s always Adam,’ Castiel reminded him.

‘Ah, Adam,’ Dean said fondly, a hand over his heart. Thinking about what happened to him always made him feel slightly guilty, but that couldn’t be helped. They _tried_ to help him – at least he was in heaven, not the cage. ‘My former favorite. He was the one who could never annoy me. Because he’s not _here_ to annoy me.’

‘Ha ha,’ Sam said flatly.                                                            

Dean leaned back, looking impressed and satisfied with what he’d received.

‘Thank you, Samuel,’ he said, very formal, knowing that it agitated Sam when Dean added the “uel” after it. ‘Dinner and a movie. The perfect gift.’

Castiel laughed, glancing over at the pasta, which Dean’s hand reached for. He gathered up the rest of his things.

‘For you maybe,’ Sam commented, then looked at Cas. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for how many times he’ll make you watch those movies.’

‘It’s alright, Sam,’ Castiel said evenly, playing along. ‘I’ll find a way to cope.’

‘I’m going to stash the stuff,’ Dean decided, getting to his feet.

‘I’ll go with you,’ Cas responded, following Dean’s lead. ‘I actually have something for you, too.’

Dean raised his eyebrows. He honestly hadn’t expected anything from Cas – he hadn’t even expected him to remember. Castiel himself was all Dean needed when it came to giving gifts. Clearly the thought showed in Dean’s smile and his ‘really?’ when Sam’s response was ‘oh god, you’re not about to make out in the kitchen are you?’

The look dropped from Dean’s eyes and his expression became one of exasperation when he turned towards Sam.

‘Put a sock in it, Sammy,’ he instructed, ‘and for the second time today,’ he stuck his middle finger up, almost dropping what he was holding in that hand, causing Sam to roll his eyes and fold his arms at the weak response. ‘Oh, and another thing.’

As soon as Dean turned back towards him, Castiel knew his intention, and indulged in it since Dean’s hands were full. With both of his hands on his shoulders he pulled them together and kissed him, not softly either.

‘Okay, point made,’ Sam sighed, over dramatic.

Castiel moved one of his hands onto Dean’s face. Dean stepped closer, presents pressed between them. Cas’s other hand slipped down to Dean’s waist. As for Sam’s hands, they replaced Cas’s on Dean’s shoulders, and pulled him backwards and away from Cas.

‘Go to your room,’ Sam ordered, pointing his finger at the door like an angry mother.

‘Let me know when you leave so I can celebrate my freedom,’ Dean muttered, stalking towards the door sullenly, but he stopped in the doorway and sincerely said, ‘but thanks. For the movies. You really _are_ my favorite brother.’

Sam laughed.

‘I know. Now get out of here.’

‘You spoiled it,’ Aroura said sadly, once they’d left. ‘I wanted to see how far they’d go to annoy you.’

‘Too far,’ Sam said weakly sitting down across from her. ‘That’s the problem.’

Aroura grinned. Sam started to see light in the ridiculousness of the situation.

‘So, you’ve got something for me?’ Dean asked, looking over at Cas, still in mild surprise, as they strolled leisurely side my side.

‘Of course,’ Castiel answered.

‘Is it your charisma, uniqueness, nerve and talent?’ Dean probed, kidding around. ‘Because that’s enough for me. Just you.’

Castiel smiled one of the shy ones where he didn’t meet Dean’s eyes. He linked their arms, since Dean’s hands were full, and felt Dean rest his head against his own for a second as they walked. He was being adorable, as always.

‘Well, I’m sorry. But you’ll have to tolerate a gift from me as well as the gift _of_ me. You didn’t seem to mind at Christmas.’

‘Eh. I suppose whatever you got me won’t bite. Unless it’s him,’ Dean added, pointing at Shrek wandering by.

‘He doesn’t bite, Dean,’ Castiel frowned, correcting him and looking down fondly at the animal as it passed.

‘I know, I know. I’m kidding.’

‘Are you joking to cover up the fact that you’re old now?’ Cas asked, completely casual but with a smile so innocent that it was wicked.

‘ _You’re_ old,’ Dean pouted defensively.

‘The vessel is some years older than you, it’s true, but I was an angel, Dean. My age can’t be measured against yours.’

‘Yes, it can. And your age is old as fuck.’

Cas separated them and stopped walking, surveying Dean with a false-hurt look.

‘Well, now you don’t get your present,’ he decided.

‘Fine by me,’ Dean shrugged, smirking. ‘I still have you, don’t I?’

‘Technically,’ Castiel reasoned, ‘but I’ve heard it’s almost customary that when two people are in a relationship and it’s the birthday of one of them, they have sex that day. And I can make it so that doesn’t happen.’

‘Fine again,’ Dean shrugged. Castiel raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s not _all_ about the sex, you know. Just looking at you is enough to keep me happy.’

‘I’ll …’ Cas frowned deeply. ‘I’ll put a bag over my head.’

‘Knowing you exist is still enough.’

Cas was having strong urges to melt, smile a big goofy smile and hang off of Dean’s arm as they made their way back to the bedroom. But he made sure he stayed strong, straightened his back and folded his arms.

‘Fine. No presents, no sex, no getting to see me. I’m fine with that you are, and seemingly you _are._ ’

Dean looked floored by Cas’s will power. He had been expecting Cas to … link arms again, surely, so they could continue walking. He frowned in sulky annoyance, not realizing that in doing so Castiel had defeated him.

‘Come _on._ I’m pulling out all the stops here. I’ll bow down and worship the ground you walk on if you want me to. Give me _something_ here.’

It was hard not to smirk at the glory of his win.

‘Fine,’ Castiel decided. ‘I’ll omit the bag. But no presents and no sex.’

‘I can live with that,’ Dean grinned, happy for his gain as they continued walking. ‘Your eyes make up for no presents and no sex. They’re pretty. You’re pretty. And young, too. Have I told you lately how pretty you are?’

‘… No sex,’ Cas said sheepishly, ‘but you can have presents.’

‘Have I told you lately how hot you look? Man, when I see you I just want to rip my clothes off and never put them back on … ever … for up to … a week. Alone. You and me.’

Cas stopped again. Dean smirked as Cas closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.

‘Fine,’ Castiel muttered. ‘Forget I revoked any of your … privileges. Just … keep your clothes on until Sam and Aroura leave.’ 

‘I’m not making any promises.’

When they got to their bedroom, Cas having ignored Dean’s comment in favor of an eye roll, they closed the door behind them. The bed was still unmade from Cas getting out of it, but on the end of it there were three neatly wrapped gifts, in the same paper Sam’s had been wrapped in. Dean made his way over to the chair in the room, placed everything he was holding on it, wandered over to the bed and then walked back towards Cas.

‘I kept them in the trunk of one of the cars you don’t drive,’ Castiel explained. ‘I wrapped them on the drive back on the day Sam and I went out together, which is the day I picked them out for you.’

‘I don’t know what they are, but I love them already,’ Dean promised, grabbing Cas’s hands and kissing him softly, more meaningfully than their little “in your face” session in the kitchen.

‘It’s difficult to buy gifts for people,’ Castiel admitted, taking a step back once their lips left each others’. ‘Especially when it comes to people like you. Meaningless trinkets would be meaningless and I know you don’t care much about material possessions. Clothing is good for once, but not twice and begins to feel impersonal after it’s first gifted. I did my best with what was available.’

‘Yeah, buying things for people can be a real pain in the ass,’ Dean agreed with a chuckle, his face lighting up like the lights on a Christmas tree. ‘So what _did_ you get me?’

‘Something practical and something that I hope hasn’t expired in the week since I bought it,’ Cas told him, dragging him by the hand towards the bed and nudging him down to sit on the end of it. Cas went to sit on the other side, the presents between them.

‘Which one do I open first?’ Dean asked, looking at the three differently sized but similarly shaped gifts spread out before him.

‘The big one,’ Cas told him.

The largest one was thin and light. Dean hadn’t noticed at first, but there was a card taped to the top of it, which he picked up first. It was addressed to him, of course, in Cas’s writing, which he rarely got to see. It was a simple yet somehow delicate, casually looping and vaguely italic hand and it was very neat. For some reason, seeing his name on the envelope, complete with a tiny heart after it, which made him want to reach over and grab Cas and never let go, made him feel oddly special. Like what he was holding was somehow sacred, the card he removed from the envelope a treasure. Although, to him, it _was_ a treasure. 

The card didn’t have an age on it, but it was a birthday card “for someone special” as it read on the front. It was a plain, not overly extravagant thing, with a cake on the front of it, and on the inside was a sweet message that read: “Happy Birthday, Dean. It’s my favorite holiday and I hope it’s good for you too. Love, your Cas.”

There were three kisses and another heart. The word “your”, however, meant more than anything else, and the fact that it was lightly underlined made it all the more special. He looked over at Cas, who was watching his hands and not his face, almost seeming a little sheepish about the whole thing. Cas looked up when he felt Dean’s eyes on him and the corner of his lips quirked slightly upwards.

‘Your favorite holiday, huh?’ Dean asked, his eyebrows raised.

‘It deserves more recognition in my opinion,’ Castiel stated as a blush crept along his cheeks.

Dean reached over and put his hand over the warmth that was spreading there.

‘As long as you know about it, it’s pretty much the most recognized holiday there is as far as I’m concerned,’ Dean told him, stroking his thumb over Cas’s cheekbone.

‘Open the present,’ Cas commanded him, pushing his hand away impatiently after savoring the feeling of it on his face for a moment.

Rolling his eyes at the command, Dean followed it. The box that was wrapped was white as far as he could see as he started pulling the paper off, and when it was all off the noted it was white almost all over, excluding some gold writing and a brown pattern drizzled like melted chocolate over it, complete with a brown bow – it was no surprise that the brown was drizzled like chocolate when Dean realized it _was_ chocolate. Lindt chocolate, a box called “Master Chocolatier”. He’d had Lindt once before when he bought a chocolate rabbit at Easter, and that shit was good. And pretty expensive, for chocolate.

‘I know you like candy,’ Cas said, by way of an explanation. ‘And on birthdays people tend to eat lots of it. Now open the box.’

Dean did as Cas requested. Like on a lot of boxes of chocolates, there was no plastic surrounding the box, just a lid to lift. When he looked into the tray of chocolates, he discovered there was one missing. He frowned.

‘There were thirty eight to start off with,’ Cas explained again.

‘This looks like the best breakfast _ever_ ,’ Dean grinned, grabbing one of the chocolates, inspecting it, then throwing it into his mouth. Once he’d swallowed it he leaned over to kiss Cas’s cheek and say a quiet ‘thank you’ before righting his position, closing the lid and beaming back at the bashful angelic creature and asking, ‘which one next?’

Cas pointed at a small, which rectangular parcel which Dean picked up and tore into. It was a small clear plastic thing, which contained something metal. He opened up the plastic packaging (muttering ‘son of a bitch’ as he scratched himself on the sharp edge of a flap he managed to lift) and pulled the thing out, which was attached to the cardboard base. After removing it from the base, he held the thing in his hand. A key chain, of sorts, judging by the ring attached to it that it was dangling from.

Cas didn’t speak. He let Dean pull out the different parts and see for himself what was on it. A lock pick, a knife, a beer bottle opener, a cork screw, several screw drivers of different kinds, another, sharper knife. There was a button on the side, which Dean pressed too, and it made the top of the thing light up.

‘Dude,’ Dean said, staring at the marvel he was holding, ‘this is fucking great. It has a whole bunch of shit I’d need when working a case. Flashlight, concealed weapon, lock pick, screw drivers to screw off hinges if the locks can’t be picked, and something that’ll help when the hunt is over and it’s time to kick back with a few beers!’

‘I thought it would be practical,’ Cas replied with a satisfied smirk as Dean looked between him and the gadget with wide eyes.

‘Practical? It’s _perfect_.’

‘I’m glad you think so. Now open the third one – I hope you like it, although I’m aware that it might not be your _style_ for want of a better word.’

Dean picked up the last, long, narrow, thin wrapped gift and made quick work of the paper. It was a black box. He opened it up, and there was a leather strap with fastenings like that on a chain or bracelet on either end, and hanging from the leather were two silver charms; a pair of wings, and half a heart.

‘Why only half?’ Dean asked quietly.

‘Lift up the cushioned part,’ said Cas, gesturing to what the leather strap was sitting on.

Dean did so, and there was another, almost identical thing under it, but where angel wings were on one, an infinity sign was on the other. Dean noticed for the first time, now, that in black thread upon the leather, there was writing on both straps. On one, Dean’s, “Angels are watching over you” and on Cas’s, just one word, “Humanity”. Both of which were followed by a date Dean recognized – 09.18.2008

It was the date they’d met. The date they’d met, plus a statement, a truth from that day on that his mother had always told him, sewn into a piece of leather, leather that was tough like old boots, like Dean, like Cas, and their journey together.

‘Can I?’ Castiel asked, reaching for Dean’s. Dean nodded. ‘I asked for these to be specifically made in a jewelry store Sam and I passed,’ he said, as he picked up the piece of leather. ‘It took them two hours and it was ready by the time we were ready to come home.’

Cas gingerly fastened the strap around Dean’s wrist, where it fit easily. It didn’t pinch and it wouldn’t fall off and it could move easily. Dean did the same thing for Castiel, making sure the latch was secure and that it was staying on Cas’s wrist, before he fingered the small infinity symbol.

‘What does this mean?’ he murmured, running his index finger over it and down Cas’s arm.

‘Humanity is infinite,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Humanity is infinite, and the affection I feel and have always felt towards it is infinite. And you … are humanity.’

Barely smiling now, a smile not being grand enough to express what he was feeling, Dean moved his other gifts and the empty packages out of the way so he could slide up next to Cas, their hands attached to the arms with the matching leather bands joined, their lips joined, their foreheads pressed together.

When they pulled apart Dean asked, ‘have I mentioned, _thank you_?’

‘Once or twice,’ Cas grinned, chasing after Dean’s lips after Dean pulled back and pulling him into the kiss again.

‘Well,’ Dean murmured, barely audible, ‘thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Castiel replied, ‘now shut up.’

Dean laughed in a manner similar to a giggle but obeyed, allowing himself to fall backwards onto the mattress, avoiding crushing his chocolates or getting stabbed by his new gadget, while Cas fell with him and began to climb on top, only to be distracted by a knock on the door.

Dean groaned as Cas climbed off of him and he called ‘come in’ to his knocking moose of a brother.

Sam opened the door as Dean and Cas righted themselves and managed to look towards it with perfectly innocent and casual looks on their faces.

‘Hey, not interrupting am I?’ Sam asked in the doorway.

‘Of course not,’ said Cas, just as Dean said, ‘you always are. But continue.’

Sam raised his eyebrows at the opposing comments, but did as Dean requested and said, ‘this morning when Aroura was out with Shrek she picked up a few things from the store. Including a pie.’

‘Pie?’ Dean asked, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘What kind of pie?’

Sam began to smirk at Dean’s peaked attention.

‘Pecan.’

Dean jumped to his feet.

‘Take me to the pie.’

Sam grinned and beckoned and Dean followed him out, casually playing with the angel wings charm on his new wrist strap as he walked. Castiel followed behind them, smiling to himself about Dean’s enthusiasm for the pie, but also hoping that he’d get a slice because he hadn’t had breakfast yet besides coffee and was starting to feel pretty hungry.

Sam led them back to the kitchen, where Aroura was getting out plates and putting them on the table. She looked up and smiled when they entered, reserving a smile Dean recognized as the kind Cas gave him and he gave Cas, for Sam. Part of him felt weird for noticing. The rest of him felt happy for Sam. And in both the part and the rest, there was again that unsettling feeling when he thought about how quickly the two had re-bonded, but as usual, he ignored it.

‘No cake, no candles, nothing fancy,’ Sam told him, before Dean asked, ‘I know you don’t like any of that crap. Just pie.’

‘Great,’ Dean grinned, then his face fell into suspicion. ‘You’re not about to sing that stupid song, are you?’ he asked, in reference to the traditional “Happy Birthday.”

‘No,’ Sam assured him. ‘Just sit down. Eat pie. Then Aroura and I have to go.’

‘Okay. Well, good. Thanks for that.’

Sam was true to his word. Dean know that Sam wouldn’t just go out and get pie for him on any normal day, usually pretending to forget to get pie whenever he _did_ go shopping, but he wasn’t complaining when they all sat down together, Dean with the biggest slice and the promise that Sam and Aroura weren’t taking the leftover pie with them and that Dean and Cas were welcome to whatever was left after the four slices they were having now were taken out of it. Pie was one of the few things that, even when Sam was offering it, he didn’t question.

Unless it was April Fool’s Day. On that day he’d been handed pie filed with fake blood instead of the promised raspberry, pie with shaving cream instead of whipped cream, pie laced with laxatives and pie that had fake plastic spiders shoved into it. Dean didn’t know why he fell for that trick for so long.

They didn’t talk a lot while they had pie, some inquiries about what they all had planned for the day. Dean said his plans included Grey’s Anatomy, pie and chocolate. Cas backed him up on that. Whereas the plans Sam and Aroura had included lunchtime tea with Aroura’s grandmother, an outing to show Sam around the area, followed by dinner that evening with both grandparents. Castiel had to nudge Dean’s knee with his own to remind him not to laugh at the fact that Sam would be drinking tea, probably out of tiny porcelain cups, with a seemingly posh old lady. The nudge didn’t stop Dean’s grin from widening though as he thought of Sam’s giant moose hands trying to manoeuvre a dainty porcelain piece while he discussed current affairs with a woman he imagined had perfectly styled hair and wore a formal yet floral suit.

‘You have fun with that,’ was all Dean offered, trying his very hardest not to laugh, when Sam mentioned it.

Sam and Aroura left later shortly after the pie. Cas’s goodbye to Shrek was more extensive than his goodbye to the people in question, and then Dean and Cas were alone. In the bunker. For a week. Dean in the past had been rarely alone in the bunker for a _day_ – the longest he’d been alone in a long time was when Sam and Cas went off to buy Christmas decorations last month. But now they had a week, all to themselves, no one else (well, no one else human, there was still the fish …)

The first thing they did was got _wild_. The rest of the pie, Dean’s chocolates and a DVD in bed. Cas found he quite liked the movie Ghost, which was the one Dean put on. It was a complete, total, crazy keg party that the two of them had there, alone together. They didn’t even get dressed. They didn’t sit up straight. They didn’t shower until after they’d watched the movie, and didn’t bother shaving. And then it was back to the bedroom (over the sheets this time) to watch two episodes of Grey’s Anatomy.

Then they walked around the bunker for a while. Castiel had never seen most of it – storage rooms, dungeon, endless corridors filled with doors – they went behind those doors he’d seen but not been through, noting strange artifacts, old computers, boards covered in dust and smudged writing. It was fun to walk around for an hour, exploring various rooms, some of which Dean himself had never set foot in, or had only looked in once or twice.

That evening they went out to eat rather than staying in, just a boring old diner, but it was nice to get out together and then return to watch some more Grey’s Anatomy, then switch to having American Horror Story on in the background while they played a one-on-one game of Monopoly which led to Dean slowly beginning to lose and, in frustration, decide “screw it”, climb onto Cas’s lap next to him and thoroughly distract him for ten minutes until Dean started taking his shirt off, which made Cas realize at once that Dean was trying to manipulate him.

‘You’re not getting out of losing that easily, Dean,’ Castiel warned after pushing a pouting Dean off of him, back onto the spot next to him so they could continue the game and Dean could continue bitterly losing, ‘even if it is your birthday.’

And so, Dean lost. To cheer him up, Cas let him continue what he’d been trying to use as a distraction earlier. They left a trail of clothes all the way to their bedroom and didn’t lock the door and Dean found himself able to freely moan, as loudly as he wished, as Cas’s tongue trailed up his inner thigh and his nails dug into his ass.

They spent the night naked and staying up late to watch Dirty Dancing and Roadhouse. They shared a frozen pizza in bed and drank some beers and when the movies ended the lay side by side, talking for a while. They were both tired but they talked about what they would do that week and if they would go anywhere, they talked about one very dark freckle Dean had on his left inner thigh that stood out from all the rest, they talk about how Cas’s face was scratchy when he kissed it and they talked about whether Aroura’s posh old grandmother would approve of Sam’s flowing magical hair jungle.

They weren’t exactly sure at what point their pointless tangents of conversation turned into them sleeping side by side, Dean’s face buried in Cas’s side as he lay on top of Cas’s arm which would probably be dead in the morning.

Stiff, yes, but not dead, Cas discovered when he woke first. He slowly pulled it out from under Dean and sat up, checking the time. It was ticking towards ten, but it wasn’t as though they had anything to do that day so he lay back against the pillows and flexed his arm in front of him, glancing over at Dean as he did. Dean was asleep with one arm by his side, the other arm with his hand resting on his stomach, the bed sheets barely coming up to his hips. It was times like these, that Cas began to wonder how he’d gotten here. He should have been used to it by now and honestly he was, he was used to his new routine, the new direction his life (it was odd and new to actually refer to his existence as “his life”) was taking, but he frequently liked to think about how his current situation and plausible future different from the past.

It was as though he didn’t recognize himself, but at the same time knew himself better than ever. His wants were becoming wants that were never the wants of angels, his path was becoming decidedly more human and straying away, at times, from what was expected of those in his current life style, what with the hunting and the monsters and the demons …

He thought of the ribboned dogs.

He wondered if that was just imaginative speculation or if, truly, one day at some point they’d be able to do something other than constantly running for their lives.

Dean’s phone vibrated on the bedside table, startling Dean awake at the unexpected sound. The first thing he looked at, after the automatic initial glance at his phone, was the still-tired looking Cas that had been surveying him mindlessly.

‘You know it’s time’s like this that reminds me of back when you were just a creepy dude in a trench coat staring at me until I woke up,’ Dean joked, hoarse, as he pulled himself upwards by his elbows.

‘Good morning to you, too,’ Castiel said mildly.

Dean chuckled.

‘Yeah, hey.’

He leaned over and kissed him briefly, turned away, then went back in for another, making Cas laugh and his eyes light up which made him look more awake.

‘I wonder who’s texting you this early?’ Castiel asked, nodding towards Dean’s phone.

Dean picked up his phone and lit up the screen, which was followed by a tremendous groan of annoyance.

‘Crowley.’

‘What does he want?’ Castiel asked with a frown, answering his own question by looking at Dean’s phone screen, squinting slightly at the brightness of the screen.

The text read: _She’s going to kill me, Squirrel._

Dean raised his eyebrows and set his phone down, Castiel watching him. Cas gave Dean a quizzical look, but Dean just sighed, already over whatever Crowley was spewing about.

‘Aren’t you going to respond?’

‘What for? The guy’s over dramatic. He probably just … I don’t know, got in a fight with Rowena or something.’

Cas’s eyes narrowed.

‘Where _is_ Rowena?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Last I saw she ran off with the Book of the Damned. It’s not like we need that or her anymore. For all we know, she could be hanging in hell telling her son what to do and he wants us to come and … stand up to her for him.’

‘So you’re going to ignore him?’

‘He’ll text again if it’s important. Besides, week off, remember?’

Hearing the words and remembering that they did in fact have an entire week work-free and alone made Castiel smile. He directed that smile at Dean and tried to push the message where Crowley played the pronoun game out of his head, which wasn’t exactly hard.

‘I remember,’ he confirmed. ‘What is it that people tend to do when they have time off?’

‘Breakfast in bed?’ Dean suggested.

‘That sounds like something I wouldn’t object to.’

‘Then start the next Grey’s episode without me and get comfortable. I’ll be ten minutes.’

Dean climbed out of bed and headed for the door, still completely naked. This surprised Cas at first, but then he recalled that they’d pretty much left the clothes they’d been wearing scattered around anyway as they’d stumbled back to the bedroom, Cas carrying Dean half of the way while Dean’s legs were wrapped around his waist, his hands on Dean’s jeans, then his underwear, then his bare ass, clutching it, squeezing it …

Cas could get used to this.

It wasn’t that he wanted Sam out of the picture, of course, he liked having Sam around and considered him a brother for all intensive purposes – he just knew he was going to enjoy this week, and that when he thought of Dean cooking naked he knew that was something he wanted to see … but maybe tomorrow. Right now he was going to relax, as Dean instructed. Right after he made a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up just in case naked breakfast in bed led to something far better than breakfast once the plates were cleared.

Cas was a little under fifteen minute into the episode when Dean arrived with two plates of something that smelled good. He sat up straighter and removed his arm from behind his head, replacing that support with some extra pillows behind his back to keep him sitting up. Dean handed him a plate of bacon, eggs and sausage which he accepted, then Dean put his own plate down on his bedside table, held up a finger and left again. When he returned he was holding two cups of coffee, one of which he placed on Cas’s beside table, the other he placed in place of his plate on his, now he had his plate in hand and could climb back into bed to start eating to satisfy his growling stomach.

They snacked and sipped their way through the next ten minutes of the episode, and when the plates were put aside, Dean’s arm was put around Cas’s lower back and Cas’s over Dean’s shoulders, their heads together as they sank down into a more comfortable position to watch the rest of the episode.

Once the episode ended, Dean shut off the TV and let out a comforted sigh.

‘Time to get up?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ said Cas.

Neither one of them moved. They stayed there, silent, side by side for over a minute before Castiel made the first move to get up, a move which resulted in him giving up half way and resting back against Dean, now facing him. He pressed his lips to his shoulder, and that was that. Cas was on top of Dean, and then he was between his legs, and then they were indulging in an activity that woke them up far better than the breakfast and show had.

They ultimately had no plans for the day. They treated is any other plan-filled day, making the bed before they headed to the bathroom and gave themselves yet another wake up under the hot water. The shower floor was uncomfortable on Cas’s knees and there wasn’t much room for one person to stand and another to comfortably kneel, but like with all things they made it work despite the discomfort, even if Cas was going between being on both knees and looking like he was proposing by being on one while Dean’s fingers raked through his wet hair.

They picked up their clothes that were scattered on the trail from the living room to their bedroom once they’d gotten out of the shower, and Dean decided to put on a load of laundry since it was likely they’d be indoors all day. Cas, while Dean was busy with the laundry, washed the dishes from breakfast and from their pizza last night. Dean returned while he was drying them and together they put them away, perfectly in-sync with each other.

‘So,’ Dean said when the last dish had been put away, as he reached into the refrigerator to grab a soda and toss one to Cas, ‘any big plans for today or should we just wing it?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘I finished the first Harry Potter book on the drive back from Maine,’ he recalled. ‘We could watch the movie, like you suggested before.’

‘That’s a start,’ Dean nodded. ‘Then afterwards we could go to the store and pick up something for lunch. You can help me make home-made hamburgers or something.’

‘I’d be happy to help,’ Castiel smiled, thinking of how much he enjoyed it when Dean cooked and wondering exactly how he could be of assistance. Passing the utensils, maybe. Then back on the topic of the movie he asked, ‘bedroom or living room?’

‘Living room,’ Dean decided, walking across the room towards Cas and kissing him for a time that lasted less than a second. ‘If we go back to the bedroom I can’t be held responsible for forgetting about the movie completely and taking advantage of the fact that we’re alone.’

‘Not that being in the living room stopped you yesterday,’ Castiel pointed out, feeling Dean’s hand sneaking under his sweater and in return, stepping closer and placing his hand on his ass.

‘I suppose not,’ Dean mumbled, smirking as his lips met Cas’s in a series of light, playful kisses through smiles.

‘Well too bad,’ Castiel said suddenly, stepping away and bringing his soda to his lips to take a sip, preventing Dean from chasing after the lips he was no longer kissing. ‘I want to watch Harry Potter.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Dean pretended to sigh, as if Cas had disappointed him, but he grinned afterwards and patted Cas’s arm once. ‘You go get comfortable and get the TV set up. Oh, and take this and put it on the table for me. I’ll grab my computer and find a place to watch the movie.’

Dean handed Cas his soda and left. Cas grabbed two bags of chips from a cupboard and headed off towards the living room as Dean had said, while executing all of his willpower into not finishing the soda before finishing the chips, and not starting the chips before Dean got back because he didn’t want to start without him.

Dean returned, opening his computer as he approached the couch and sat next to Cas, noticing the bags of chips on the table, along with his and Cas’s already opened drinks. He grinned at Cas as he began searching the web for a place to watch the movie. He quickly found the best place and hooked the laptop up to the TV and hit play. He and Cas grabbed their chips and relaxed into the couch as it began to play, the opening bars for some reason causing a tingly excitement to spread throughout the room like a magic spell itself.

It turned out Dean was actually more of a Potter fan than he let on to be. Though he hadn’t read all of the books (one, he’d read one at Charlie’s request) and had only seen all of the movies once (a couple of years ago, again with Charlie) he was tense and excited at Cas’s side, pointing at the screen and saying ‘wait for it’ whenever something big was about to happen, beaming at triumphs and looking defeated at downfalls and laughing and clapping in excitement when Harry got the stone and then again when he beat Quirrell. Cas spent a lot of the movie looking between the screen and Dean, trying to figure out which he liked watching more. The answer was in fact, Dean, but the movie was good too – nowhere near as good as the book, but still good.

Watching the movie with Dean made Cas realize that he could identify with Harry, in a way. Harry had always been different, but then he went to Hogwarts and he found a home. And Castiel had been different too, an outsider to everything, but then he found friendships like he had with Sam and Dean. They were his Ron and Hermione – except Dean was more than just a Ron or a Hermione. He was the embodiment of Hogwarts itself, were such a thing to exist.

Dean’s arm was around him now and he tightened into his side, wedging an arm behind him and throwing the other across in front of him. Dean’s arms shifted so his arms were also wrapped around Cas. Dean rested his head on Cas’s shoulder and Cas against the top of Dean’s head and they stayed like that for the majority of the movie after Cas’s realization.

They watched until the end of the credits, and then Dean turned off the TV and closed his laptop. He got to his feet, extending a hand to help Cas up. He grabbed their discarded chip bags and drink cans and looked at Cas with his eyebrows raised.

‘So, shopping time?’

‘I’ll put these in the trash,’ Castiel decided, taking the trash from Dean. ‘You go get money.’

‘“You go get money,”’ Dean quoted, raising his eyebrows, not looking at Cas as he repeated the words and turning back to him when he asked, ‘that’s not what you’re going to be like when we’re married, is it? “Go get money so I can buy more ribbons for the dog.”’ He said the hypothetical quote in an imitation of Cas’s voice.

‘No, Dean, of course not,’ Cas said with a sigh and roll of his eyes at Dean’s dumb joke, smiling despite how dumb it was, and then the lining of his stomach turned to ice.

 _When we’re married_.

When Sam made a marriage joke, Dean had freaked out and told him to back up. But now Dean was talking about it, in a joking context, sure, but it was _Dean_. And he had said _when_ and not _if_. Castiel wasn’t sure if he should mention that comment or not, and he didn’t, lucky for Dean who felt like his heart would beat out of his chest in embarrassment after his casual slip-of-the-tongue comment which surely, _surely_ if Cas had caught it, would have sent him running in the opposite direction … right?

‘Good. But I’ll do it this time,’ Dean said firmly, minimally shaky, but he hoped it was so minimal that Cas didn’t notice it. ‘Meet you by the exit?’

Castiel nodded. They left the room together, and walked together until a certain point and then separated. Dean, for once, was almost glad to be away from Cas for the brief period of time so he could calm himself the fuck down, put his restraints back up on himself and not sound like an idiot again.

It had been a joke, a slip of the tongue, Dean knew that. It was far too soon to even think about _thinking about_ that kind of thing, especially with _Cas_. Cas had been an angel for … since … forever. _For since forever_. He knew that sentence made virtually no sense, but it made about as much sense as broaching the dangerous territory would have were he to bring it up.

Besides, bringing up that kind of thing wasn’t his “style”. Then again, neither was most of the stuff he and Cas did together, said to each other or talked about. Things were in fact changing rapidly, his life somehow managing to turn in a direction he’d never thought it could …

He put the thoughts out of his head as he tucked his wallet into the pocket of the jacket he’d thrown on. He glanced around the room before he left it, looking at all of the pictures on the walls. He remembered that there was still a video on his phone he’d been meaning to burn onto a disk for a month if he could find blank disks and figure out how to do it. He made a mental note to maybe make some more video-captured memories for burning, before he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Castiel was waiting by the door, just as he said he would be. Dean smiled at him, an easy smile that served as a re-greeting and also as a self-assurance that everything was fine, and then they left, hand in hand, walking the streets towards the store.

It wasn’t a particularly busy day. It was cold, but not shiver-inducing so, or even the level of cold that would make their joined hands numb. They didn’t rush their way to the store, walking at a steady pace and swinging their arms between them. They discussed the movie as they went, Dean asking if it had live up to Cas’s expectations, whether it was as good as the book or whether it included enough things from the book to pass as a good enough on screen adaption. Castiel confirmed that it had, and though there were some scenes he’d have liked to be in it or some things that were in it but different in the movie, he saw both book and movie as equally good pieces of entertainment. The book was more enjoyable, but the movie was more visually stimulating.

‘And that Snape is perfect,’ Cas found himself saying, more than once. ‘Although Ron was freckle-free, Hermione had perfect teeth and Harry’s eyes were blue, Snape’s portrayal and appearance made up for all of that.’

‘Book Snape: Alan Rickman. Movie Snape: Alan Rickman,’ Dean chuckled under his breath.

‘Is that the name of the guy who plays him?’ Cas asked, to which Dean nodded in response. ‘How do you know?’

‘Because he died this month,’ Dean said, somewhat sadly. ‘Besides. I’ve seen him in some other stuff too. There’s this one movie that’s totally not a Christmas chick-flick movie or anything and it’s definitely not called Love Actually that he’s in, and he’s great. And he was in Die Hard. And Sweeney Todd, another thing I’ve totally never seen. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The man was _amazing_.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that he died,’ Castiel said respectfully, frowning as they walked. ‘It must have been sad for you to hear, considering he was in so many things you’ve definitely never seen.’

‘Yeah, it was,’ Dean nodded. ‘I mean, it’s not like he’s one of my all-time favorites or anything, but to see that headline on the news when you’re passing a TV … it’s unexpected, man. And it sucks.’

‘Death always does,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Perhaps we should change the subject to something less … morbid.’

‘Uh …’ Dean muttered, fishing around in his head for another topic, ‘is telling you that you look cute today a good enough less morbid topic for you?’

Cas looked down, smiling at his own feet as they walked.

‘Yes,’ he muttered, determinedly not looking at Dean. ‘That’s a good enough less morbid topic for me.’

Dean grinned in Cas’s direction, locking eyes with him when he looked back up. They stopped in the street for a moment to stare goofily into each others’ eyes and share a rushed, semi-bashful kiss. It’s not like they were super into PDA or anything, they just couldn’t _help_ it. Cas slipped his hand out of Dean’s and instead placed it around his lower back, under his jacket. Dean mimicked Cas, but kept his hand on the outside of Cas’s sweater … for modesty.

The separated upon entering the store but stayed close by each others’ sides. Dean led the path through the store picking up the things he knew they needed for lunch and just in general, asking Cas’s opinion on some of the things he was grabbing for today’s lunch. Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket as they made their way through the shelves but he ignored it, deciding he’d check it when they got home and then beginning to get agitated when it buzzed again as they went through the checkout.

They went straight to the kitchen when they returned home. Dean threw his jacket over the table and rolled up his sleeves after he put the bags down, then went to work on unpacking them, instructing Cas on where to put the items he helped unpack.

It was always exciting when Dean cooked, but today it seemed extra exciting as Dean picked up a small handful of minced meat in washed hands and rolled it around on a clean chopping board expertly, forming a ball and inviting Cas to mimic him with another handful. When Cas couldn’t quite perfect the motions Dean was putting the ball through as he added to it and changed the shape, he got to have Dean’s hands over his to show him exactly how he wanted it done, then he got Dean behind him for good measure after a hand-wash and a second chopping board selected to show him how he wanted the onions chopped by taking Cas’s knife-holding hand and making a few chops first.

Cas felt proud of himself every time he did something that Dean approved of, but it was nothing compared to what Dean felt when he glanced over at Cas as he worked, happiness radiating within him every time he remembered Cas was over there cutting up food rather than some gruesome ingredient in a spell like he’d had to many times in the past. He wandered over to where Cas was working when the thought crossed his mind, looked at the diced onions and nodded approvingly, feigning detachment and acting like he was minimally impressed by Cas’s quick work, and walked two steps away.

And then he walked the two steps back, grabbed Cas’s wrist to stop his chopping, kissed him, then walked away again to get back to his own work. 

Once they were done with the burgers and the meat was placed in the fridge to chill before cooking, they moved onto the fries. They hadn’t bought frozen ones that were ready to be cooked, but instead a small bag of potatoes for homemade ones to maximize their time in the kitchen together, and maximize the amount of time Dean got to spend behind Cas showing him how he wanted things done even when he knew Cas knew what he was doing. But he had to be _sure_ … and to be sure he definitely had to have his arms around Cas from behind, dictating the movements of his hands. And the neck kissing was definitely necessary as he nestled his chin on Cas’s shoulder. And surely _everyone_ paused in their potato peeling to make out in the middle of the kitchen, only to come apart due to the rumbling of their stomachs and the want to get everything cooked.

And, once again, Cas standing with his arms wrapped around Dean from behind and one hand up his shirt was 100% necessary for the burgers he was frying to be cooked properly.

When lunch was cooked, they brought it into the living room to eat while watching Grey’s Anatomy. They were on season eight, and still had a lot left to go before the premiere of the new season in February and as they ate and watched they had a very serious discussion about staying up later than usual to watch as much as they possibly could.

‘We may not be working any cases this week, but we definitely still have a lot to work on,’ Dean told Cas in the most serious voice he could muster.

‘This work is crucial,’ Castiel agreed, nodding, his brows furrowed in concentration. ‘It’s vital that we get it done.’

The two of them laughed at the same moment, abandoned their ridiculous conversation and turned their attention back towards the screen.

They watched Grey’s on and off for the rest of the day. They took breaks in between episodes, to do dishes, to play a rematch of yesterday’s Monopoly game, to play a game of Snap to decide whether they went to the store to find something for dinner or went for pizza, which resulted in the latter, plus a trip to the store to grab a tub of ice cream to share for dessert. They went to their room around ten and didn’t decide to crash until shortly after midnight.

Their first day where the entirety of it was spent completely alone in the bunker had been a success. Dean hoped for a day-two that was just as good as he plugged his phone in to charge overnight and disregarded a couple of cryptic texts from Crowley, again figuring they were just spam-like messages being sent for attention.

If only, Dean groaned the next morning, when he woke up to find a text from an unknown number that read, “Crowley is dead and mother too. I Am Coming.”


	33. Delusional Brothers and Angels

Dean dropped his phone back onto the bedside table and flopped back onto his pillow, covering his eyes with one hand. He let out a long, heavy sigh of annoyance. Of course this would happen. Of course it would. It wasn’t so much that the text said Crowley – and Rowena, apparently – were dead, it was that the message had come from an unknown number and had included an ominous message after the fact.

The sound of the phone hitting the wood was enough to startle Cas and wake him. He automatically looked at Dean, as he did every morning and noticed Dean’s hand over his eyes. Almost instantly alert, he pushed himself upwards and snapped into serious mode.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, sensing the mood.

‘Phone,’ Dean responded, a low, irritated, still half-asleep groan. He removed his hand from over his eyes to point, sitting up as Cas reached over him to grab hold of the phone and lit the screen.

A moment of silence. A sudden understanding.

‘Do you know who sent it?’ he asked. Dean shrugged. ‘Can you trace the number?’ Another shrug. ‘You should try,’ he suggested, met with a half-shrug half-nod. ‘Are you going to call Sam and tell him?’

Dean didn’t respond at first, mulled it over, then decided ‘no.’ Seeing Cas’s raised eyebrow he continued, ‘let him have his fun, whatever he’s doing. We’ll call if whoever it is shows up at the door but not before then.’

Castiel nodded. That was understandable. Dean often tried to protect Sam from happenings, he’d been doing as long as Cas had been around at least, and it probably dated all the way back to their childhood, Dean telling Sam there was no such thing as monsters under the bed and protecting him from the knowledge of things that lurked in the darkness … and now it was like that again, Sam being protected, kept oblivious, in the dark, allowed to enjoy his time thinking the world had finally given them a well-deserved break.

Dean got up at once to grab his laptop; presumably he had tracking software on it that could deal with this type of thing. Cas had seen him track things on it before. For a man who frequently got confused connecting to the free WiFi at a motel (‘it wants me to sign in, when did I sign _up_?’), he certainly knew his way around certain aspects of technology.

Cas watched the screen and slid close to Dean’s side, one hand on his shoulder. He briefly leaned his forehead against the same shoulder and kissed it before he flickered his eyes onto Dean’s face, concentration deep set into his features. It was disappointing that such concentration was required so early. Concentration would be more pleasurably spent in actives that involved stubble scratching against thighs.

They watched numbers race by and bars load up in silence. Whenever they stopped, Dean aggressively tapped some keys and watched them start up again, flying faster on screen than a bird on crack flew circles in the sky. It was difficult to register a single number that dared show its face, and for each number a name came up adjacent, gone before it could be read. Three times, they watched the spinning numbers. Dean closed his laptop after the third round.

‘Guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way,’ he muttered, shoving the laptop away from him.

Cas moved out of the way as Dean reached across him to grab the phone that was left on the pillow and he opened the message, replying, _Who is this?_

The reply came seconds later.

_Darling I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream._

The words were oddly familiar. Dean exchanged a look with Cas, who looked even more puzzled than Dean felt. He replied to that, rephrasing his question: _Who are you?_

_Got a long list of ex-lovers, they’ll tell you I’m insane._

‘What the fuck?’ Dean muttered, as the reply came within three seconds.

‘What does that _mean_?’ Cas asked out loud, not expecting a reply, doubting Dean knew or that the words meant anything at all.

‘It’s Taylor Swift lyrics,’ Dean told him, staring at the phone in confusion and slight distaste, not that he had anything against Taylor Swift.

 _What do you want?_ he asked, as Cas frowned in confusion at the new information.

_I’ve got a blank space baby, and your name is already filled in._

Dean put his phone down momentarily. He knew that wasn’t how that lyric was supposed to end. And then his phone started to buzz again, and again, and again. Name after name, all of them ones he knew.

_Lucifer. Amara._

_Chuck. Gabriel. Michael._

_The demon, Ruby._

_Crowley. Rowena._

_Sam Winchester._

_The angel, Castiel._

_Dean Winchester._

_I Am Coming._

Dean put the phone down again and got out of bed in a rush. Cas looked at him, frowning, giving worried looks to both him and the now silent phone. Castiel copied him, climbing out of bed.

‘Dean …’

‘Cas, I think we should go to hell.’

An unsettling feeling settled in Cas’s stomach. He supposed that made sense, considering the first texts were from Crowley, before this strange number came up with lyrics and cryptic messages, a list of names, some of them dead, which made Dean regrettably think about Arya Stark’s list of names which wasn’t exactly an enlightening thought.

‘Do we tell Sam now?’

‘No,’ Dean insisted, shaking his head. ‘No. Unless you want to.’

‘It’s up to you,’ Castiel shrugged, walking over to him and taking hold of one of his hands. He looked him in the eyes determinedly. ‘But you do realize, it won’t be easy. Getting into hell. I can’t get us there with no powers.’

Dean nodded.

‘What do you suggest we do? Or … I, if you don’t want to come.’

‘I’m coming,’ Cas assured him, grabbing his other hand for extra reassurance. ‘Where you go, I go. I told you once I’d watch over you which is still true, and I got you out of hell once, so I’ll be there with you again.’

Dean smiled, despite the situation. Cas couldn’t help but return it, his eyes softening as he looked into Dean’s despite the slight feeling of dread that had started to creep up on him, knowing that trips to hell didn’t often end well. They thought they’d finally escaped a “bigger threat”, yet a possible new one had crept up, so soon.

‘Should we summon a reaper?’ Castiel suggested. ‘It could get us to purgatory, which is hell adjacent. We could go from there.’

‘I know,’ Dean told him. ‘I’ve been down that road before. Well, Sam has. When we were doing the trails to shut the gates down there for good. It seems like that’s the only way we’ve got.’ He paused, chuckling. ‘You and me, wandering through purgatory again. Huh.’

‘At least this time we both have the same aim,’ Castiel told him. ‘To get out alive as soon as we can, to come home, get back to Sam and … Aroura …’

Dean whispered the latter name as Cas said it, drawing it out together as it dawned upon them together. They looked at each other hopefully, wondering.

‘Do you think …?’ Dean asked.

‘She can go other places. She could visit God. Why not be able to visit hell too?’

‘Should we call her?’

‘What about Sam?’

‘I don’t know. Do you think she’d lie if we asked her to?’

‘She seems helpful. I think she would also want to protect Sam and avoid worrying him if at all possible.’

‘So, we should try it,’ Dean stated, still somewhat questioning.

Castiel nodded.

‘I think we should.’

Dean mirrored Cas’s nod, pulling away and moving towards his phone. He changed his mind half way through his reach for it, pulling his arm back and grabbing hold of Cas’s hand.

‘We should probably y’know … shower and get dressed and stuff first.’

Castiel realized, too.

‘That would be best.’

Dean’s phone buzzed. Three times fast. Groaning, he checked the messages.

_Hell hound got your tongue?_

_Shake it off._

_If you want blood, you’ve got it. Get on a highway to hell._

He recognized the title of another Taylor Swift song, plus the titles of two AC/DC ones. It made him uncomfortable, a thought that came … of course whoever this was wasn’t trying to appeal to Dean’s interests. Taylor. AC/DC. A list of names like Arya Stark’s.

Another buzz.

_When I’m through with you, even that handsome neurosurgeon won’t be able to put you back together again._

He tossed the phone away, striding across the room for good measure, towards the door and out of it. Cas followed him.

It was a distracted sort of morning. It was difficult to concentrate on tasks as the messages ran through Dean’s head, and Cas kept shooting Dean worried glances, wondering what the rest of the messages said and whether he should ask. He tried to appear focused on getting things done as quickly as possible so they could be ready to call Aroura when they got around to it, yet appear supportive of Dean since it must have been making him feel some pretty uncomfortable things, considering he was on the receiving end of a lot of seemingly unsettling messages.

Dean checked his phone as soon as they returned to the bedroom to get dressed. One more message had come through, the title of an Ozzy Osbourne song “Diary of a Madman” but nothing else, and no context. He saw Cas watching him warily as he hovered by the dresser, Dean by the bed. Noting the expression, Dean crossed the room and handed him the phone. Castiel took it and scrolled through the messages.

‘So, whoever this is knows you,’ Castiel realized once he’d read them all, looking up at Dean again who’d pulled out a t-shirt and was about to put it on.

‘Yeah,’ Dean muttered gravely. ‘So who does that narrow it down to? Someone we know? There’s not many of those left.’

‘Someone who put effort into finding out as much as they possibly could about you?’ Castiel suggested, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head questioningly. ‘They could have questioned Crowley before killing him, if we’re assuming they really did kill him.’

‘Or … they could have been watching me for weeks or months or years,’ Dean pointed out uncomfortably, not meeting Cas’s wary gaze.

‘Maybe,’ Castiel agreed, though he didn’t _want_ to agree with it. It did, however, make sense. ‘But how? They can’t have gotten in here.’

‘They could be in the area, ready to watch and follow whenever anyone _leaves_ here. I wouldn’t put it past someone sadistic enough to do it.’

‘We should keep a look out when we leave in the future,’ said Castiel, abandoning dressing and crossing the room to where Dean stood, looking down at a pair of jeans as if he couldn’t figure out what to do with them. ‘And hopefully, if we find a way to visit hell today, we can put an end to … whatever this is. Are you okay?’ he asked, placing a hand on Dean’s arm.

Dean looked up, meeting his eyes now and shrugged. He looked … bored. Like he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

‘I’ve been worse,’ he shrugged. ‘The … messages. They’re just a little creepy. And this whole thing is annoying because it’s ruining us getting to spend a week together. You know, like _normal_ people. I mean, is that too much to ask?’

Castiel smiled weakly. Dean was looking at him almost guiltily, as if it were his fault that Cas was missing out on something or other, which Dean most likely thought it was. He always tended to blame himself. Cas raised his hand from Dean’s arm, instead placing it on Dean’s cheek.

‘We’re not normal people,’ he stated simply. ‘We have to do normal another way.’

Dean matched the weak smile and dropped his jeans, placing his now free hands on Cas’s waist. Cas put the phone he was still holding into his pocket for temporary keeping so he could put his other hand on Dean’s other cheek and he kissed him softly, encouragingly. Dean’s return kiss almost felt apologetic, the way one of Dean’s hands snaked around to Cas’s bare lower back and stroked the skin there, Cas not yet having found the time to dress his upper body.

Cas pulled back and let his hands fall. Dean didn’t move his hands an inch, but looked cheered up if only minimally.

‘We can do normal another way,’ he muttered, his thumb stroking a line over Cas’s skin, soft and still warm from the hot water of the shower. ‘We can do normal by finding whoever this is, kicking their ass and then getting back to doing something for ourselves for once.’

‘Exactly,’ Cas muttered, his eyes raking up and down Dean’s face, which was staring down at him with his head slightly bent because of the height difference of a few mere inches. ‘Now … take your phone out of my pocket before I forget it’s there and forget that we have somewhere to be today.’

Dean chuckled, sliding his hand into Cas’s pocket a little too deliberately and pulling the phone out, while keeping his free hand constantly in contact with Cas’s skin. He dipped his head to kiss Cas again, smiling more genuinely now.

‘You should put on a shirt,’ he recommended. ‘Before _I_ forget what we’re supposed to be doing today.’

‘And _you_ should put on pants,’ Cas threw back at him, ‘or else you’ll make it too easy for me to do this.’

Cas fixed his palm over one side of Dean’s ass, where his underwear was perfectly molded over it, not hiding the exact shape of it the way it would be hidden after Dean finished getting dressed. Dean smirked. He moved his free hand onto Cas’s chest and pushed on it lightly.

‘Go,’ he instructed. ‘Get dressed. Wear something cute … not that what you wouldn’t look cute in literally _anything_ ,’ he added, as an afterthought.

Castiel smiled to himself, and Dean could’ve sworn he saw him blushing as he turned away. It took Dean several seconds of staring after Cas’s back with hearts in his eyes to remember what he was supposed to be doing, and immediately he dove down to pick up the jeans at his feet, almost forgotten.

It was hard to decide whether they should skip breakfast and get right to action, but they decided they should at least keep their strength up, so they went for having coffee and toast before they made the call. They didn’t sit down in the kitchen due to being anxious about it; Dean made coffee while Cas loaded the toaster with bread, pacing back and forth in front of it while Dean tapped his foot impatiently in front of the coffee maker, as if frustrated foot tapping could speed up the liquid as it trickled into the pot.

‘Come on, come on,’ Dean muttered, as Cas got the butter out of the fridge in anticipation for the toaster popping. Despite being ready for the pop, it still startled both of them and Dean almost dropped the coffee pot as he poured the finally-done beverage into mugs.  

‘Do you think whoever this is will be waiting?’ Castiel asked, looking over at Dean questioningly.

‘Maybe,’ Dean said uncertainly. ‘Or maybe they fled. They did say they’re coming … they just didn’t say when.’

Dean sighed. Silence fell between them, and they finished eating and drinking in in that same silence. It was a situation of half-wanting to get things done as fast as possible to get to hell and find out what the hell (no pun intended) was going on, and half-wanting to never have to make the call that could secure them a trip down under … even further under than Australia’s “down under.”

Sooner than they would have liked, though, they did have to make the call to the number neither one of them had used before, but were given “just in case” before Sam and Aroura left. It didn’t take long for Aroura to pick up, with a pleasant “hello?” that sounded like she was her usual, chirpy self and most likely smiling that constantly overly-friendly but not overwhelming smile.

With a silent exchange between him and Cas, Dean sighed, and proceeded to tell the situation as it was, once he’d made sure Aroura was alone. He couldn’t even bring himself to find amusement in the fact that Sam had apparently gone to a “country club” with Aroura’s grandfather. Instead, he laid out the details in front of her, and he could practically hear Aroura nodding along with him.

After Dean had rambled on about the texts and the possibility of them getting to hell, Aroura confirmed it with an ‘of course I can get you there. And we’re not telling Sam, right?’

‘Right,’ Dean confirmed.

‘Okay. Be right there.’

‘Okay. Thank you.’

She was the one to hang up. Cas raised his eyebrows. Dean nodded.

‘Should we gather supplies?’ Castiel asked.

‘Yeah. Let’s grab as much holy water as we can carry and we don’t have enough we can make more. And we’ll need the right weapons.’

‘I’ll get the weapons if you give me the keys to the Impala,’ Castiel offered.

‘They’re my bedside table. I’ll get the holy water we’ve got stored.’

Cas nodded, and they went off to their respective tasks.

This was, for the most part, unknown territory. It wasn’t as though the two of them took casual strolls down to hell every day, or as if the two of them had gone together at any other point, to be perfectly frank in their thinking. Separately for things that they knew much more about than a mysterious texter, sure. But heading directly there in pursuit of an unknown person or thing that could be anywhere … dangerous, untested water, full of starving, blood thirsty sharks that had a thing for men who honestly didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.

Cas was the first one done, and he decided to wait in the long tabled room, stashing his angel blade in a detachable holster he attached to his belt. He left the demon knife on the table for Dean and looked around, anticipating is return, when he heard a movement soft as snowfall behind him. He turned around.

‘Hi,’ Aroura greeted, casual as ever, looking at the knife by his hand on the table.

‘Hey,’ Castiel replied, unconsciously mimicking Dean’s usual greeting for people.

‘Gathering supplies?’ Aroura presumed, looking at the knife by Cas’s hand and noting the absence of Dean.

‘Yeah,’ Castiel replied, picking up the knife and studying it. He’d never paid it close attention before, but it was an interesting design. For a moment he wondered what exactly made angel blades and knives like these have the abilities that regular knives didn’t possess. ‘Dean’s getting holy water. We’re probably going to need it.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Aroura nodded. She tilted her head thoughtfully, brushed a stray hair from her face and said, ‘if it were me, I’d bring water guns. Like the one kids play with in summer? Fill ’em up with holy water and …’

She mimicked shooting something akin to a rifle. Castiel chuckled. It was, admittedly, a good idea. Aroura grinned, teeth sparkling like her eyes, and let out a small, girlish giggle as she lowered her hands for a moment, raised them again, and feigned a more violent seeming shooting in his direction.

‘Bam! Right through the shoulder!’

Cas placed a hand to his left shoulder where the imaginary shot had hit. He gave a small ‘ouch’, a joking mockery of the non-existent holy water hitting him, a non-demon who holy water wouldn’t affect anyway, as Dean walked in and disapprovingly warned, ‘don’t shoot my boyfriend.’

‘So sorry,’ Aroura quipped innocently, folding her hands in front of her and smiling at each of them in turn. ‘So what’s your plan here?’ she asked, getting right to the point as Dean handed Cas a flask of holy water and accepted the knife held out to him, stashing it in an inner pocket of his jacket while Cas stashed the holy water in the front pocket of his jeans.

‘Get down there,’ Dean started, trying not to reveal that there wasn’t exactly a foolproof plan in place so far. ‘Get past any demon that gets in our way. Look for Crowley … dead or alive. Look for anything that could tell us anything about who killed him if he’s dead, question him if he’s alive.’

‘What if you get down there and he’s just … missing?’ Aroura asked.

‘We could summon him,’ Castiel suggested, quick to respond.

‘Exactly,’ Dean agreed.

Aroura didn’t look as though she wanted to get involved with whatever they were getting up to. She was merely there for transportation, the least she could do for … them putting up with her despite not really knowing her, she guessed.

‘Are you guys ready to go, then?’ she asked, looking between the two of them.

Dean and Cas exchanged a look. Dean raised his eyebrows, and Cas nodded. Dean nodded in return and reached out a hand towards him, which Cas took.

‘We’re ready,’ Dean told her, sounding almost bored, yet determined to at least find something down there that wouldn’t make it a waste of a trip.

And then they were there.

‘I’m gonna go wait in the bunker,’ Aroura told them, looking around uncomfortably. ‘Call me when you’re ready to leave … of it you’re about to die.’

And then they were alone.

They were in what seemed like a deserted corridor. Deserted was never a good sign; they drew their blades and proceeded forward with caution. Dean recognized this as the way to what he supposed could be called the throne room. Crowley liked to lounge around like a king in Game of Thrones on the Iron Throne, so it seemed fitting. Usually the doors, which drew closer at each careful step, were guarded by a pair of black eyed dicks in suits. Today, there was nothing.

‘Something seem off to you?’ Dean muttered, Cas close at his side.

‘It’s uncomfortably quiet,’ Castiel replied. ‘It’s … unnatural.’

‘Ominous,’ Dean suggested as a word describe the feeling creeping up on them as they approached the doors.

‘With no better word needed to describe it,’ Castiel agreed.

They were almost at the door, walking slowly. They were stalling, they knew, because of what may have been lurking behind those doors. Whether it was Crowley alive in his throne wondering what the hell they were doing in, well, _hell_ or whether it was a room of massacred bodies or whether it was completely empty or … any number of things. Any scenario could have been lurking behind those closed doors.

Dean’s heart was beating in his throat with nerves, uncomfortable with not knowing what to expect. The worst way to go into a situation was blind. He glanced around him once and shared another look with Cas. He raised his eyebrows. Cas considered, tilting his head as he often did, then touched their lips briefly, long enough yet short enough to make Dean feel unsatisfied by the length of the contact, and lastly he nodded, towards the doors.

Dean pushed them in.

The heart-hammering headed up towards the hundred beats-per-minute range when they saw a complete and total stranger sitting in Crowley’s throne, his dead body at her feet. There were a number of bodies surrounding her, scattered around in pools of blood, all clearly killed in different ways. There were a few decapitations. Some general stabbings. A neck snap here and there. With Crowley, the blood seemed to pool mostly around his throat, so it seemed as though a red smile was his demise.

The stranger in the throne was female, blonde, dressed in a brown leather jacket, and not paying attention. She was holing what appeared to be an iPad and frowning deeply at it as she made a swipe here and there with her finger. She seemingly sensed that she was no longer alone and held up a finger as she continued to keep her eyes on the screen, barely caring that Dean and Cas were now heading right into the room, stepping over bodies and doing their best to avoid the blood, though they still made dark, shining red footprints against the stone that usually varied in shades of grey.

‘Just let me finish this level, I only have one life left anyway,’ came a clear, casual voice. ‘I’ve been stuck on this level for two days.’

Dean passed a body that looked as though some of its skin had been peeled off, and other parts of it burned until it was black. Looking more closely at the bodies, the grislier bits were clearer. Dean looked back at Cas and caught his eye, just as Cas was neatly avoiding someone who’s insides were now out and spilling across the floor. The two of them made sure to stop where the sea of bodies ended, still a good ten feet from the stranger, apparently too absorbed in her game which sang sickly sweet sounding music out that echoed off of the stone walls.

And then, she stowed the iPad away under her seat, sighed, and looked down upon the two of them, weapons semi-raised, hands clasped together like they’d been melted against each other with flame like a broken lipstick being melted back into a whole stick.

‘Did you get my texts, freckle-face?’ she asked of Dean casually, crossing her arms like she’d known him for years. Her movements were fluid, like she was floating through unsupported air rather than one complete bodied being seated before them.

‘I got them,’ Dean told her, staring, completely horrified by what he was standing among, but even more confused by who this was and what she was doing.

‘Well you didn’t text me back!’ she replied, as if this offended her greatly, but still speaking as though she knew him and he was just a friend who’d forgotten to reply to a message about hanging out.

There was a pause. Now they were here, they were unsure of what to do. They studied her, she studied them. Neither side paid any attention to the slain demons smothering the floor in a rich variation of organs and red rivers.

‘I’m Emma, by the way,’ the stranger offered.

She was less creepy in person with her casual manor and her offhand expressions. Her capitalization of every word in her threat, her song lyrics, her references, they all screamed psycho. In person, she screamed bored woman talking to people she’d been waiting on. She stood up – again looking like she was floating, sweeping towards them like she was in an elegant gown rather than jeans. Castiel tried took step back, but was prevented by a severed head. He was long past the stage where that would have made him shudder.

‘You guys are _so. Cute!_ ’ she moaned as she approached, looking at their joined hands and faces in turn, chewing her bottom lip as if their sheer adorableness caused her physical pain. ‘I could just stare at you guys forever. Come on! Why so shy?’

Dean took a step closer to Cas, an automatic defense. Emma’s face suddenly lit up like a courtyard on fire, her smile uncomfortably familiar, shaving at least ten years from her face. Possibly more. Her general aesthetic seemed to be hot, harsh and badass. But the smile turned her into a glowing girl, full of hope.

‘So! Cute!’ she quipped at them.

Dean and Castiel were looking at each other as much as they could, not trusting the stranger who’s smile soon fell enough to take their eyes off of her for long. They communicated silently; they had each come to the decision to remain silent until the stranger Emma said something that warranted a response, and understood that in their look.

‘Tough crowd,’ Emma mumbled, to herself, glancing down at her feet. ]For some reason, she didn’t look as though she was capable of the murders she clearly committed. They could see Crowley dead behind her, closer now, and Rowena nearby. Those deaths looked … like they’d hurt. Tortured before the end, where their throats had been opened wide.

‘Guess this will be a monologue,’ Emma sighed. ‘So, what? Did you come here to … see who I was? To kill me? What is it? If you’re going to attack, make your move already. It’s not like there’s anyone here to defend me.’

Dean didn’t move an inch. It must have been a trap, it had to be, to get them to attack and then for her to do something weird or pull some trick from up her sleeve like a magician would pull a string of colored handkerchiefs. He didn’t anticipate Cas suddenly dropping his hand and striking. He definitely didn’t anticipate a clean shot at his target with no tricks involved, and seemingly neither did Cas, who stepped back in shock as his blade stayed, lodged deep into the stomach of this Emma, a stain seeping through her white shirt spreading outwards to the lapels of her brown jacket.

‘Well,’ came a whisper, her eyes suddenly wide and child-like, again shaving off ten or more years, her hands going automatically to the blade penetrating her, ‘I did ask for it.’

And then she dropped to her knees and keeled over. Seemingly dead.

While Dean had the chance, he stabbed her through the heart for good measure, and pulled out Cas’s blade with his free hand as he freed his own, thick, dark blood on both of them.

‘You just killed her,’ Dean stated. He sounded winded, as if he’d been stabbed rather than Emma.

‘She told us to,’ Cas reminded him. He sounded a lot like Dean did as he accepted his blade back, holding it away from him as it oozed, dripping very close to his shoe.

‘Yeah. You’re right. Holy shit.’ Dean turned towards Cas, frowning deeply. ‘So … is that _it_?’

‘Possibly?’ Castiel questioned. ‘Who … or _what_ … was she?’

‘Demon gone rouge?’ Dean suggested.

‘She hated Crowley _that_ much? She can’t have been a demon, she did _this_.’

‘Well … she’s dead now,’ Dean observed. He got on one knee and checked for a pulse. Nothing. Rising, he confirmed, ‘yeah, dead.’

‘So we just go?’ Castiel questioned.

‘Maybe? I mean, there’s nothing more to do here …’

It was an uncomfortable spiral of questions that surrounded them like a tornado that had come to sweep them up into its interior. There was a long pause, which was semi-awkward as they stood in silence surrounded by the dead. Castiel looked around him several times, glued to the spot as was Dean, each of them still holding their blades.

‘Should we … do anything?’

Dean considered it. He looked around them again, not a single face besides that of mother and son dead side by side at the foot of the throne familiar to him, and felt a slight twist of guilt despite them just being the dead meatsuits of demons.

‘It’s not really like we knew them … and Crowley and Rowena, they were like … they were … well, they weren’t exactly our biggest fans.’

‘Nor us their’s,’ Castiel agreed, seeing where he was coming from, ‘but maybe … we could burn them, at least? The two of them. Aroura could bring what we needed …’

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded, admiring Cas’s gesture for the old thorns in their sides despite them being so thorny, ‘let’s do that. But let’s …’

Dean gestured towards the doors. Castiel nodded in agreement, and the two of them wadded through the dead pool back towards the doors they’d come though. The moist sound their shoes made whenever they stepped in blood and pulled their feet up from the floor made them shudder internally, but they didn’t let it show on the surface and had stepped in things much worse. And been covered head to toe in things much worse. Like exploded Dick and what not. 

Dean called Aroura the second they were through the doors and had shut them behind them. She arrived less than three minutes later, with matches and some gasoline to throw over the bodies. When walking through the room again, letting Cas wait by the door to spare hi the journey through the blood, Dean let the gasoline pour along with him just so, maybe, the entire room could be touched by the fire, or as much of it as was possible.

Once he was back, safely in the hallway outside of the room, he tossed in some lit matches. It went up almost instantly, and thinking about Crowley burning in there … was almost bittersweet. Sure, he’d been a pain in the ass, but he’d been an oddly helpful pain in the ass at times. Like a pain that leads to you realizing a bigger problem.

Aroura took them home at once. It had been a … well, an experience. That was a word for it. But it couldn’t exactly be defined as a good or a bad one, or an enlightening one … it was confusing, mostly. She had her usual helpful, perky face on.

‘Anything else you need before I go?’ she asked, looking between them.

There wasn’t. Aroura left in high spirits, brushing off their thanks.

They were left in the long tabled room, alone and not 100% sure of what had just happened. Dean sat down, putting his bloody knife on the table. He didn’t care if it marked it, he could always wipe it down later. Castiel sat across from him, their knives side by side in the middle.

‘So,’ Dean started.

Castiel watched him. He didn’t have a response yet. He studied Dean’s face, went over the events of hell in his head. Emma, Emma, Emma … completely unfamiliar, name and face alike. She seemed to be so to Dean too. Although, she did seem to know him.

‘Secret demon admirer?’ Castiel suggested. ‘Who’s been watching you and finally decided to make her move?’

‘Maybe,’ Dean chuckled. ‘But what’s her motivation? Why now?’

‘Jealously?’ Castiel asked. It was plausible. ‘I know I’d be jealous if I were her, had some kind of attraction to you and had to watch us, day in and day out.’

‘Could be,’ Dean nodded. ‘But why’d she kill Crowley? And … everyone else, apparently.’

‘There’s no way explain the actions of a madman,’ Cas shrugged. ‘Or … woman. Or demon. Whichever applies here.’

Dean nodded again. He placed both elbows on the table in front of him, sighing. He put one hand over his eyes for a moment before leaning back and looking at Cas with an uneasy expression, watching those ever-curious blue eyes studying him like they always seemed to do.

‘I feel … oddly unsatisfied,’ he admitted, watching the eyebrows above the eyes arch in question, urging him forward. ‘Things like this usually take up more time. Fuck more shit up. We don’t often come across a maniac killer monster and just … stab, dead, end of story.’

‘Not _often_ ,’ Castiel nitpicked, ‘but it must have happened sometime.’

‘Once or twice. Not usually demons, but other creepy dicks.’

‘There’s a first time for everything,’ Cas pointed out, ‘although I do agree. It did feel like something was missing. Perhaps even a struggle would have made it seem more … normal.’

Dean laughed at the irony of their lives, only for a moment. Fighting was normal to them. Struggling was normal to them. Dangling on a thin thread above the jaws of death, sometimes even literal Death, was completely normal.

‘It’s pretty fucked up that when something actually goes our way it messes with our minds,’ Dean realized, after his short-lived-laughter.

‘Things do seem to be getting better for us of late, though, don’t they?’ Castiel asked.

His eyes were hopeful, and so, so pretty. Dean nodded, a hint of a smile returning.

‘I guess so. No real main threats to deal with. So … what? We move on, just like that?’

‘Is there anything else to do?’ Cas asked.

Again with those eyes. Reasonable this time.

‘I guess not. So,’ Dean declared, getting to his feet, ‘how about you wipe that blood off the table and I get to making us something better than some crappy slices of toast to wash down this morning’s daily dose of creepy?’

‘Extra bacon,’ Castiel requested.

‘You’ve got good taste,’ Dean smirked in response, secretly thrilled by the fact that even their tastes in foods matched.

 _Yet another reason we belong together_ , whispered a voice in the back of Dean’s head that he’d been blocking out less and less and allowing to grow louder and louder with each passing day. Because what was the use in running from it? Clearly there was no stopping what he and Cas had now, and even more clearly he didn’t want to. He wanted to push it as far forward as it could go.

Cas followed Dean to the kitchen, grabbed some cleaning replies and left while Dean was still going through the fridge. He smiled once at Dean’s unseeing back, simply enjoying the view. When he cleaned up the blood he also cleaned off the knives, and placed the knives with much of the rest of the weaponry in the bunker, before he headed back to the kitchen to put the cleaning supplies away and throw out the blood soaked sponge. He washed his hands afterwards, watching Dean chopping up little bits of bacon so small that they’d be difficult to get onto a fork.

‘What’s that for?’ he asked curiously, leaning against the wall next to Dean.

‘They go in the omelet,’ Dean explained. ‘With more bacon on the side.’

‘Would you like any help?’ Cas asked, eager to do something and possibly half-hoping to have Dean’s hands on his as he showed him how he wanted whatever it was done …

‘Yeah, sure. Come here, let me show you something.’

  Cas got his wish, being showed unnecessarily how to continue dicing up the bacon, while Dean moved on to doing something involving mushrooms that Cas didn’t see as he didn’t want Dean to catch him staring.

As usual, they made a pretty good team. Cas watched while Dean fried up their food in the pan, and got plates when it was close to being done. They sat across from each other at the table to eat, mostly in silence, there not really being much to talk about after the unusual morning they’d had. Castiel complimented Dean’s cooking and beamed at Dean’s bashful smile and his brush-off of ‘it’s nothing’ and he in turn showed his appreciation of Cas’s help.

‘I do what I can,’ Castiel shrugged, but smiling when Dean wasn’t looking. He truly enjoyed helping out with such little things. They meant more to him than the big, often monster-related things he’d done in the past like time travel or healing or breaking into places.

After breakfast, Cas washed and Dean dried. It was then that they finally started to talk about the turn the morning had taken for them.

‘Half of me is skeptical about the whole thing because it was over so quickly. It’s like … was it a trick, getting us to kill her, or was she actually that stupid?’

Dean asked it as though they’d been discussing it since their return, but they’d barely spoken a word of it up until that point. Castiel pondered the words as he dragged a sponge across a plate, a trail of suds being left behind like a trail of blood flowing from one of the bodies in hell.

‘Perhaps she had a death wish,’ he proposed, trying to find validation in it and coming out with, ‘and perhaps she knew it could only go two ways. She would be killed by someone during her slaughter, or after her texting you someone would investigate and put an end to the potential threat of her.’

‘Maybe,’ Dean muttered, distracted by thoughts with no structure. He accepted a wet plate from Cas and continued, ‘but what do we _do_? I feel like we’re supposed to do something more than what we did while we were down there.’

‘There’s nothing we _can_ do,’ Castiel pointed out, moving on from the first plate to the second. ‘Hell was deserted and we have no other information on the so-called Emma person or who or what she is. All we can do is attempt to move past it, but be ready for if something else comes up.’

‘How will we know if something comes up, though?’ Dean persisted. ‘That’s what I’m trying to figure out.’

‘Maybe a scary demon cloud will appear in the sky and we’ll know something’s wrong?’ Castiel suggested light-heartedly, looking sideways at Dean and smiling with his eyes, but not his lips.

Dean chuckled, a desired effect.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Dean sighed, sounding more relaxed than he had before. Their hands brushed when he accepted the second plate to dry, and his heartrate jumped at the contact and then slowed to below even what it had been before the brush. What Cas had been assuring him made sense; there was nothing they could go on, so nothing they could do. ‘We’ll keep a look out I suppose. For more weird texts, or freak accidents on the news.’

‘And while we keep a look out?’ Cas asked, raising his eyebrows as his eyes met Dean.

‘I guess we can go on as usual,’ Dean shrugged. He felt much calmer now, and could think more logically. A crazy person did something crazy and was dead now. No big deal. ‘So we could … watch some Grey’s Anatomy and then go for a drive?’

‘I like that idea,’ Castiel agreed. ‘And while we drive we can look for scary demon clouds.’

Dean’s laugh was easier now.

‘Yeah. And while we drive we can look for scary demon clouds,’ he agreed.

They continued washing and drying, Dean humming an unfamiliar tune. Cas listened to him and sneakily decreased the flow of water as he washed to bring down the sound it made as it ran so he could hear better.

They finished their task and left the room, heading towards the living room without speaking. They didn’t need to speak having already planned, and the joined hands and swinging arms was habit now. They collapsed down onto the couch, Cas picking the remote control up off of the arm rest and handing it to Dean as he settled in next to him. Before Dean’s back hit the back of the sofa, Cas flung his arm out, so his arm was already in place around Dean before they got comfortable.

Dean controlled the television and started up the episode. He put the remote on the coffee table in front of them, shifted slightly so his back was more against Cas’s chest, and leaned against Cas rather than the back of the couch. Cas draped his arm over Dean’s shoulder which was now wedged up against the back couch cushion and rested their heads together as the show played. He thought about that morning and their luck with the encounter with the so-called Emma being so short.

‘Our luck seems to have changed significantly of late,’ Castiel mused, tilting his head with a hint of a smile. ‘It seems to originate back to the middle of last month and all of the trips to Kansas City we took. The time after that seems to have been … better than what I can recall before it.’

‘You mean stuff’s been better since you and me ended up together?’ Dean asked, turning his head to look at him with an easy, knowing grin.

‘That’s not what I said,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘It’s what you meant, though,’ Dean teased, his grin taking on a form of cheek.

‘Maybe it is,’ Castiel said, extremely casual. ‘Maybe it’s not. But you have to admit, the statement is true.’

‘Yeah, pretty much,’ Dean agreed. ‘Easier cases. No big threats to humanity. And since Christmas, Donna’s texted me a picture of what she calls her “daily donut” every day.’

‘I think the fact that she texts it every day is implied in the “daily donut” part,’ Cas chuckled. ‘Although I understand. Sam’s inspired idea to celebrate Christmas this – or technically last – year paved a path

towards better relationships with those we spent it with. For example, I’ve received several text messages from Claire over the past few weeks of the Grumpy Cat I got her in some new scenario ach time with Alex’s stuffed black cat.’

‘Alex’s what?’

‘It’s a stuffed cat that Claire won for her at a fair they went to last June. Claire told me that too.’

Dean let out a single, silent laugh.

‘Cute,’ he commented. ‘And speaking of Claire, we really need a blank disc to put that video she took of us onto.’

‘Maybe we can drive by a store when we go on our drive,’ Castiel commented, in a way that didn’t make it sound like a definite plan.

Dean smiled again and settled back even more against Cas, putting his legs up on the empty space on the couch next to him.

‘Maybe,’ he nodded, knowing it was a plan.

They were rapidly approaching season nine of the show, yet also rapidly approaching the date which season twelve would begin airing. There was a strong temptation just to do nothing but watch and watch and watch and watch without doing anything or going anywhere until the show’s end, which admittedly would have been enjoyable, but it was more enjoyable to do things together, even things as little as driving or shopping.

‘I checked Walmart’s website to see if they had blank DVD discs and they have, so we’ll have to go at least an hour,’ Dean told Cas as they headed to the car together in high spirits. ‘And after that, who knows?’

‘We could stop somewhere to eat, too,’ Castiel suggested, adding with a somewhat sense of pride, ‘I’ll pay.’

They’d gotten into the car and Dean paused, about to close the door but abandoning it at Cas’s sudden suggestion. He turned towards him and an adoring smile spread over his face. Castiel frowned at him slightly, not fully understanding why such a simple statement made such a huge impact on Dean.

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded, reaching for Cas’s knee to pat it, ‘okay. Let’s do that too.’

Dean closed the door, and as he did so thoughts spiraled through his mind so fast they could have broken the sound barrier. Thoughts about how the little things that Cas said showed just how much he’d grown, developed and opened up. He was embracing a life, not necessarily a human life, but a better life. It was true, Dean thought about the changes and developments the two of them had gone through quite frequently, but every time he acknowledged one, even the tiniest of things, it brought him a wave of joy that hit him like a physical wind washing over him.

‘Are you alright?’ Castiel asked.

Dean noted Cas’s hand had made its way to his shoulder, and touched that hand with his own. He smiled again, to himself, nodded and looked at Cas.

‘Never better,’ he promised. ‘So, shall we get going?’

‘Let’s,’ Cas nodded, removing his hand so that it slipped out between Dean’s shoulder and left hand.

They hit the road. They had the radio on but not too loudly, letting the cheesy pop hits filter through the car. They didn’t pay them much attention. They paid the most attention during the breaks between songs, the ads and news that played, keeping an ear out for anything unusual but nothing unusual seemed to come up, so the morning was kept mostly in the backs of their minds. They didn’t talk about it, because they didn’t have to.

‘So where do you suggest we eat?’ Dean asked, approximately twenty minutes into their hour drive to grab blank discs.

Castiel shrugged.

‘I have nowhere in particular in mind. I was thinking that we could just drive around after we shop and find somewhere. If that’s okay by you, of course.’

‘Fine by me,’ Dean grinned. ‘Just pick a place and point. You call the shots.’

Castiel raised his eyebrows, then smirked a somewhat evil seeming smirk for him. He turned his head towards Dean with a smug expression and asked, ‘and if I pick a five star restaurant?’

‘I’ll break up with you,’ Dean replied, causing Cas’s eyebrows to raise in surprise, although he knew it wasn’t true.

The words “I’ll break up with you” sent a strange shiver of pleasure through Castiel, too, despite their meaning. It was yet further confirmation that they were together. In a real, normal relationship. They’d talked about it, he knew it for sure, yet each solidifying statement that further confirmed anything brought him unknowable amounts of joy. Even if the statement was a joke about him getting dumped.

‘You wouldn’t do that,’ Castiel replied with confidence, confidence he wouldn’t have had at the start of the relationship but most certainly had now.

Dean sighed a heavy, false sigh.

‘Damn it. You caught me. You’re right, I wouldn’t.’ Castiel smirked, watching Dean’s expression change from a “caught-out” smile one of deeper contemplation. ‘I _couldn’t_ ,’ he realized, reaching sideways for Cas’s hand. ‘I know I’ve said it before, God only knows how many times, but I need you, Cas.’

Castiel smiled warmly, the warmth spreading from his expression straight to his heart, and spreading out through every physical part of him, from his chest to the tips of his fingers to his eyelashes, radiating like a fire lit within.

‘I know,’ Castiel replied, in a way that sounded like a promise. He brought Dean’s hand to his lips and kissed it, feeling the warmth he was feeling reach out and touch the skin. He took a moment to rake his eyes over the freckles dotted on Dean’s fingers and knuckles, each as beautiful as the last. ‘I need you, too.’

Dean didn’t know about Castiel’s radiating warm, glowing feeling, but he definitely felt it when the back of his hand came in contact with those soft lips that made him so achingly happy.

‘That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day,’ he replied, tightening his grip on Cas’s hand as Cas intertwined their fingers.

When shifting gears, their hands stayed glued. When both hands were on the wheel, their hands stayed glued, Castiel leaning slightly to the side and letting go of all structure in his arm so it moved freely and wouldn’t limit Dean’s driving abilities. But as soon as Dean’s hand came off that turn leaving him free to cruise along the straight road, Cas’s arm was alive once again and pouring the fire from his heart right into Dean like a hose.

They were able to pick up the blank discs in store without too much procrastination and wandering about the aisles, then they were back on the road again in no time, in search of somewhere to eat.

‘What _if_ I pick a five star restaurant?’ Castiel prompted, picking up an unfinished conversation from earlier.

‘Then you’re _definitely_ paying and you’ll owe me big time for making me step foot in a place like that,’ Dean replied, an air of false grumpiness surrounding him at the thought of it.

‘Owe you how?’ Castiel asked curiously, arching one eyebrow.

‘Owe me like … a thousand blow jobs before the debt is paid off,’ Dean replied swiftly.

‘That might take a while,’ Castiel said uncertainly, ‘though I’m not saying no, even though we’re _not_ going somewhere five star. We’re going there,’ he said, pointing at a place they were approaching.

‘How long is “a while”?’ Dean asked playfully, quirking his eyebrows as he geared towards the place Cas had pointed at.

‘Two years?’ Cas asked. ‘To be slightly unreasonable. There’s almost four hundred days in a year, rounded up, so that’s at _least_ one a day, more on some.’

‘ _Two years_?’ Dean asked, pretending he was in shock as he stopped the car. ‘Come on. You can do better than that.’

Castiel paused, his brow furrowing in thought, concentration gracing his facial features. Then he smirked.

‘Three a day, every day for a year, which will bring us almost to eleven hundred. So that’s a thousand plus interest.’

‘Much better,’ Dean grinned.

Cas walked around the Car to meet Dean and join hands again now they were out, watching Dean lock the car as he did. Once he was at Dean’s side, he said, ‘I hope you realize I’m not actually going to suck your dick three times a day for an entire year, right?’

‘Oh, come on!’ Dean whined. ‘That’s like, one after-meal BJ per meal per day. Like … dessert.’

Castiel grimaced, though he was smiling, and gave Dean a light shove away from him.

‘You’re disgusting!’ he declared, trying and failing not to laugh as Dean threw back his head, shoulders heaving in laughter as they walked.

‘I’m making up for all those years of lost time!’ Dean corrected, grabbing Cas’s hand again.

‘Shut up, Dean,’ Castiel instructed.

‘Alright, alright. We’ll alternate on days, spread out the thousand between us. Better?’

Castiel kept his eyes on the ground to control his forthcoming laugher and once he was sure he could contain it, stopped walking, made Dean face him and pressed his hand over Dean’s mouth.

‘Shut. Up,’ he said slowly, deliberately, though some of the impact was lost by the cracking in his voice as he struggled to keep from letting out something akin to a giggle. ‘And licking my hand won’t make me remove it.’

Dean stopped licking, raised his eyebrows, then with all the force he could muster in his mouth he shoved his tongue forward between two of Cas’s firm-holding fingers.

‘ _Ugh_ ,’ Cas groaned, pulling away his hand as Dean giggled mischievously in triumph, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. ‘You’re an _animal_ ,’ Castiel declared, using the bottom of Dean’s shirt to wipe the spit from between his fingers.

‘I thought you liked animals,’ Dean reminded him.

‘I _do_ ,’ Cas groaned again, wiping down his palm on Dean’s chest. ‘And that, Dean,’ he proclaimed, taking Dean’s hand once more and resuming walking towards the culinary establishment he’d chosen, ‘is my problem.’

‘Look how fancy this place is,’ Dean pointed out, changing the subject. ‘ _Applebees_? I hope they don’t have a black tie dress code.’

‘I’m almost certain they do,’ Castiel joked. ‘I hope you’re wearing a suit under your clothes.’

‘Oh, always,’ Dean confirmed. ‘So how’d you know this place sells food anyway and not just … apples?’

‘What do you think I’m doing those times when we’re watching something and I check my phone?’ Castiel questioned.

‘Looking at pictures of stuffed cats Claire sent you?’ Dean asked.

‘No,’ said Cas. ‘I look up various things that cross my mind, including, once, different food establishments and their brands. I recognized the name as one I read in a blog post reviewing an Applebees somewhere else in the country. I hear these places sell very good chocolate fudge sundaes, which is, I’m sorry to have to tell you, a far better dessert option than _penis_.’

‘How dare you,’ Dean stated, in a clearly false state of offence.

‘I’m sorry. But it’s true.’

‘Well then, we’ll just have to have _penis_ for dinner later,’ Dean sighed overdramatically. ‘You know, we’ve still got that penis pasta.’

‘Of course we do,’ Castiel muttered to himself, but making sure Dean could hear and smirk at his own smugness, not realizing that smugness was what Cas set him up for because Dean’s smirk was something Cas enjoyed seeing. ‘But we should stop talking about dicks now. Someone inside might hear us.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Dean falsely sighed, as they passed through the doors.

They both got burgers and fries, the height of five star restaurant realness. Castiel took charge, ordering for both of them when Dean told him what he wanted, then again ordering their once again matching desserts ,the sundaes Cas had mentioned before. He paid, left an appropriate tip, thanked all of the staff he encountered warmly and as they were walking out Dean was mildly astonished.

‘If you’d asked me a year ago if I thought we’d ever go somewhere together and you’d be all … like you’d done it a thousand times before like that, I would have laughed,’ Dean confessed, looking at Cas with both adoration and amazement shining out of his eyes like there were torches in them. ‘Is it weird that I’m sort of … proud of how far you’ve come?’

‘No,’ Castiel assured him. ‘There’s been times in my past where I’ve been … not exactly normal. But my people skills have vastly improved and normalcy surrounding certain more “human” experiences has become regular for me since being with you. Besides, I’ve seen you do it “a thousand times” as you put it. It’s not that hard to pick up on.’

‘We have gone out together a lot, haven’t we?’ Dean chuckled, thinking of the years past. ‘Me, you and Sam, or just me and you. It’s almost like we were dating when we weren’t.’

‘We were practicing,’ Cas grinned, climbing into the car at Dean’s side. ‘Do you remember that one, let’s call it a “lunch date,” when I asked you if ketchup was a vegetable? You know, you were wearing that plaid shirt with the pink and the purple in it, and there were ships in the background?’

‘I remember,’ Dean confirmed. ‘I pretty much remember every time you and I have ever been alone together, because every time we’ve been alone together in the back of my mind I was always contemplating telling you things that I wasn’t ready to tell you at the time.’

Castiel quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. A delightfully human move that, accompanied by a smirk, he’d picked up from Dean, from Sam and from others around him.

‘Such as?’ he teased.

‘You know what I’m talking about,’ Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes at the smirking man next to him and attempting to ignore him as he started the car.

‘Humor me.’

Dean sighed, an easy, casual sigh. One that was care free, like he had no ties to the words he was saying and was just rattling then off of a long list.

‘Oh, you know, that I’m madly in love with you and all that kinda shit, that I’m super proud of myself for not grabbing you and making out with your damn face every time I damn look at you because _damn, look at you_ , and all that.’

The smirk got bigger, along with the heart pounding in Dean’s chest when he noticed it.

‘Oh yeah. Those things.’

‘Shut up,’ Dean muttered. ‘So – what about that lunch date?’

‘I remembered today when I noticed someone wearing a shirt similar to the one you wore then,’ Castiel shrugged, ‘and felt compelled to revoke the question I asked you that day, and correct the answer you gave. Ketchup is not a vegetable, Dean. It’s a smoothie.’

‘You fucking what? Ketchup’s not a smoothie.’

‘Tomatoes are fruit and smoothies are blended, liquefied fruit. Ketchup is a smoothie, technically.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘ _No_.’

‘It’s a fact that I doubt is well known, but it’s still a fact. You should get used to it.’

Dean fell silent. Then, his signature catch phrase when it came to having no way to argue about, ‘shut up.’

As they cruised the road home, they talked about other times they’d been out together, alone or otherwise. They touched on that one time back when Cas was human the first time where he got drunk after just one beer and subtly and mostly accidentally flirted with Dean, looking at him from under his lashes and clinking their bottles together.

‘Sam looked so uncomfortable,’ Dean laughed, his laughter sounding satisfied. ‘He looked like he was about to pretend to be texting then realized “oh shit, it’s a beer.”’

‘I don’t doubt that there have been many occasions where we’ve made him uncomfortable with our cluelessly being in love with each other where he knew we were but we didn’t.’

‘He must have been screaming on the inside. Probably wanted to kill us.’

‘I don’t doubt it. Poor Sam.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean chuckled. Then, with a new sense of enthusiasm, ‘hey, remember that time I took you to a brothel and you got us kicked out?’

‘Vividly,’ Castiel shuddered. ‘I was an immensely not-sexual, completely clueless being. As uncomfortable as I was in that situation, it makes me almost as uncomfortable now remembering how I was in those days.’

‘Stiff as a board with a stick shoved so far up your ass you were practically choking on it? No offence.’

‘None taken.’

‘And look at you now. From making girls scream in terror to … well, you know …’

Dean waggled his eyebrows, the dorkiest thing Cas had ever seen. He flashed a roll of his eyes and looked out the window, sighing as he cast his mind back to how things once were. A lifetime or two, or three or more ago. Even in that strange, far off period of his life, he and Dean had something oddly special. He’d once described it as profound, but it was much more than that, right from the very start.

‘Do you remember … when we were dealing with the horsemen and one of them made me addicted to burgers or something?’

‘Oh yeah, I remember,’ Dean grinned, almost glowing. He always glowed, but today it was brighter and Cas still couldn’t believe an ordinary but so not ordinary man could glow so brightly. ‘And he said I wasn’t craving anything at all. But I can think of one thing, maybe.’

‘Oh?’

‘A certain angel, if I remember right.’

‘Even back _then_?’

‘Pretty much.’

Cas raised his eyebrows and let them fall slowly, slightly surprised but after all that had been said and done, as he went over it in his head … less so.

‘I understand,’ Castiel told him.

‘You do?’

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘There are times, specifically times when you fall asleep before me, or I wake up before you, or when I spent nights curled against you not sleeping before I was human, when I just … try to figure out when exactly I realized, or even when I fell in love with you. But every time I pinpoint an exact time …’

‘I remember another time before that,’ Dean said quietly, right on par with Cas’s train of thought.

‘I just didn’t recognize it, especially not at the start …’ Cas continued.

‘It’s ridiculous to be in love with this guy you just met, who you don’t even know, who’s not like you at all or who’s not even the same species as you …’

Dean was shaking his head in disbelief. It felt like it was all happening at once, right now. The past, the present, the future. The memories were fresh.

‘You have a mission here, something to do, your head isn’t supposed to be crowded with not-unwelcome thoughts of something you were never meant to grow attached to. Some _one_ you never intended to care about.’

 _Never intended to care about_ hurt Cas to say. It was a ridiculous notion.

‘Someone bringing up thoughts you’ve always been forced to push to the back of your mind. Like a normal relationship, one where you do things that people like you don’t do. Can’t do, can’t have, because circumstances don’t allow it.’

‘It’s been drilled into your brain since day one that you don’t do these things. Have these feelings. It’s just not … it’s so …’

‘Out of character for you to even think about it.’

‘Out of character and completely unheard of to … to think of normal, _not you_ things, _human_ things only suggested to you once by an insane, delusional angel …’

Castiel remembered that, losing his grace for the first time … being told to find a wife. He didn’t want a wife. He wanted _Dean_. No faceless “wife” would make him as happy as Dean did. Dean was the only person who could fulfill that role.

‘Or a brother who knows your secret desires but you act like he’s delusional …’

‘You could never consider these things, they’re completely foreign to you … and then you feel like you’ve changed so much that you’re unrecognizable, and you realize what he suggested isn’t so insane after all.’

‘Because you’ve found something you never thought you’d find.’

Their hands found each others’. They were joined in silence for a while.

‘And you have a limited life that won’t last forever, yet you’ve found someone you want to spend it with even if it did.’

‘And it’s crazy. It’s still crazy now. It hasn’t been that long, you’re afraid it’ll sound stupid even to think about it and it’s new and strange …’

‘Especially when you know how the other person can react to things, but you think they’ve finally figured it all out, finally realized …’

‘… what they want …?’

They’d been speaking like it was a monologue, just once person saying all the words with thoughtful pauses between each line, trailing off and trailing on again after contemplation. Driving, driving onwards and not endlessly, and now they were parked in the parking lot of the bunker, having been silent for the second half of their journey, hesitating on getting out. They hadn’t realized how long it had taken for them to speak or how quickly their perfectly normal conversation had taken an extreme turn. They’d been lost in their heads once the words had run dry, with nothing left to say that needed to be said.

Dean was smiling a small smile, a private smile, only for Cas’s eyes despite it being directed at his own thoughts and realizations. Castiel matched it perfectly, like he matched everything else.

‘So, are we …?’

‘If you want,’ Dean said gently, leaving all the options open in front of them.

‘But how … where … could I even …?’

‘I know a place,’ Dean nodded. ‘Do we go now …?’

‘While Sam’s still away? What about Freckles?’

‘Aroura’s been pretty good for favors. We could ask her to pop in once a day while we’re gone and feed him. It’ll only take a second, and we’ll bring her back a souvenir to say thanks …’

‘But … what about our dinner plans?’ Castiel asked sheepishly.

‘Let’s bring the box with us and see if there’s any way we can whip it up in a motel room. Or a real hotel or something. Some of those come with kitchen-ey things, right? They might have one in the suite we’ll be entitled to …’

‘A suite? That sounds expensive.’

‘I’ve been saving, remember? For something but I’ve never known what? Cas, I know what now.’

‘Dean …’

‘We should pack,’ Dean suggested, getting out of the car at last. Castiel met him half way around it, and grabbed his hands. ‘Looks like we’ll be taking more than a week off, but I don’t think Sam will mind that … it’ll give us more time to catch up on Grey’s Anatomy and do … other stuff …’

‘Other stuff like …?’

‘Who knows?’ Dean asked optimistically. ‘Oh, shit. Oh fuck. Oh god. I’m nervous. But excited, I can’t even explain …’

‘I’ve never seen you like this before. I’ve never _felt_ like this before. I feel like my heart is in my throat and it’s going to jump out any moment.’

‘Me too man, me too.’

They were getting jumpy. Excited, barely able to contain it, standing in front of the car and staring at each other like two kids about to run away to go on an epic fantasy adventure.

‘We’re really doing this,’ Castiel whispered.

He’d only just been thinking about how impossible things seemed, how much everything had changed in such a short space of time. It was like everything was falling into place, yet turning upside down. It was unlike them. It was unlike him. It was unlike anything.

‘Sam will be pissed he didn’t get to come, of course,’ Dean rambled, laughing to himself about it. ‘Jody, Donna and the girls too, probably. Maybe we can give them a re-enactment on our ten year anniversary.’

‘There’s going to be a ten year anniversary,’ Cas muttered, shifting his feet and grasping at Dean’s hands desperately. ‘There’s going to be a _one_ year anniversary … a week …’

‘There’s going to be an … an _it_ …’

‘I know.’ Cas didn’t know how his breaths weren’t coming in gasps that tore through his chest like a chainsaw. ‘We’re … we’re going to do it. Something impossible. Something we’d never do. We’re going to pack a bag and just …’

‘Yeah, we are,’ Dean grinned, tears shining in his eyes that couldn’t fall due to sheer excitement mixed with nerves overpowering the extreme joy. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Somehow, yes,’ Castiel answered confidently. He took a single deep breath, forced the foreign, impossible words from his brain to his lips and said with utmost certainty, ‘let’s get married.’


	34. Pretentious VS Non-Pretentious

Aroura returned to the room where she was sharing an afternoon tea with her grandmother and Sam. Francis, a tall woman with auburn hair, kept neat and to her shoulders with a lot of volume in the top, placed her small cup down on the plate in her other hand, then placed the plate back onto the small table in the front room.

‘Work again?’ Francis presumed, smiling at her approaching granddaughter as she reclaimed her seat next to Sam.

‘It’s a busy day,’ Aroura replied, smiling, flustered. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, don’t be sorry dear,’ Francis brushed off with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if to sweep the apology away from her person. ‘I was just once again, what I call, admiring Sam’s hair and telling him how I do enjoy a man with long hair. Such fun, isn’t it? So many styling opportunities.’

‘Oh, definitely,’ Aroura agreed, nodding very seriously.

‘It’s a struggle to decide how to do it every morning,’ Sam replied. Francis didn’t notice his laugh and accompanying smile were stiff.

Sam was dressed in a neat sweater, over a shirt buttoned to the top, with his hair carefully parted and one side brushed behind one ear. He sat with his hands folded in his lap and all times, and his legs placed extremely carefully so as they weren’t too wide apart or too close together. He made sure, at all times, not to slouch.

‘My grandfather is _so_ much easier to be around,’ Aroura had promised him before they’d arrived. ‘He’s the cool one. Grandma … takes a little longer to open up to someone being … well … _human_.’

‘I thought you said she _was_ human,’ Sam pointed out, trailing behind her around a store to buy a whole new wardrobe for the week.

‘She is. And they think I am. But she’s a perfectionist. I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s the Queen of England but, _what she calls_ , much smarter.’

‘So … how long before I can stop … _this_?’ Sam asked, gesturing the way she’d done his hair and the _sweater vest_ she’d just held up in front of him.

‘Oh, not that long,’ Aroura shrugged, absent mindedly. ‘A year? A few months, if she hates you.’

‘If she _wha_ –’

‘Go tries these on.’

‘ _Hates_ –’

‘The shirts buttoned to the top.’

Sam had raised his eyebrows higher than he thought they could raise, fell silent and disappeared into the changing rooms.

And so Sam had adopted the character of the polished reporter, who travelled the country reporting for a big magazine Francis had never heard of because it wasn’t her particularly preferred genre; horror had seemed fitting enough. Sam went from place to place, finding out the grizzly details of crimes and brutal murders, and she found it ‘thrilling’ but not enough so that she’d inquire about seeing an edition of the magazine.

‘Can’t I just say I’m a free-lance reporter?’ Sam had asked.

‘Oh, and have her make subtle distasteful comments about it for a week straight?’

Sam just followed Aroura’s lead after that, and it wasn’t as difficult as he’d thought it would be.

‘Perhaps I’ll grow my hair long,’ came a voice from the doorway, and Norman, Aroura’s grandfather, entered the room with a glass of something made from water and various berries.

‘If you want all of your students to laugh at you, perhaps you should,’ Francis replied dryly. ‘Long hair looks quite ridiculous on an older man.’

‘Nonsense!’ Norman insisted, all in good fun. ‘It would suit me tremendously, don’t you think, Sam?’

‘Uh,’ Sam laughed, vaguely uncomfortably at the upfront question, despite having spent the morning with Norman at his country club without incident. Personally, he didn’t think long hair would suit him, but he didn’t want to disagree with Francis who still frightened him at times. ‘I think it depends on the person, there’s really no way to tell.’

‘Ah, oh well,’ Norman sighed, pulling out a chair to join them. ‘My students will just have to do without that extra laugh, then. So Sam – I’d bet Francis would love to hear all that you told me about your brother this morning …’

The afternoon went on, Sam telling Francis things he’d told Norman about Dean, and also about Cas. He hadn’t specified the gender of the person his brother was in a relationship with at first, not exactly knowing if these upper class seeming people would be accepting of the brother unknown to them and his relationship, but Norman had gotten the hint that morning and hadn’t commented on it negatively, then later telling Sam to pass on his good wishes and his hopes that the relationship would work out well for the two of them.

Francis also wished the two of them the best, talked about how they could ‘get married any day now, thanks to … what was it … last June?’ and even joked about the possibility of a double wedding, paired up with Sam and Aroura. That had earned some light hearted laughter, followed by a ‘grandma, please’ from Aroura.

‘You never know, darling,’ Francis pointed out, leaning towards Aroura with the sincerest of faces which she kept as she glanced towards Sam. ‘Couples these days, well … they’re wed before you can say “I now pronounce you man and wife,” without anyone even getting pregnant first!’

Sam laughed along at the joke at the end of her statement, but inside his stomach did a strange sort of flip-turn. That happened every time he got himself into a situation like this. It never turned out right. What seemed like a lifetime ago, Jess had burned. He’d once slept with a woman who’d turned out to be a werewolf. Then there was a demon. And then there was Amelia, and he’d met her father and then her husband had turned out to be alive. And now, there was Aroura, who’d been his first girlfriend in his teen years, who he had only reunited with a little over a month ago, yet … _everything_ was going right this time.

That terrified him more than anything else. It’s not as though he didn’t want a real life, a wife, children, some stability. Yes, he wanted that. And that scared him, because a disaster always found its way to his door. It would have with Amelia, if he’d gotten to stay with her. There was the thing with the tablets and Kevin and closing the gates of hell that had managed to reel him in. Now, he’d accepted that was his life, and that would always be his life. And that life and the life he wanted … they didn’t go well together, or at least they hadn’t until now.

Aroura wasn’t even human. She was … a step to The Savior … which was frightening and exciting in one. They could be together and she’d know everything. They could even get married, and yes, it was early, but he could see that with her. They just … _fit._ Puzzle pieces taken apart once and put back together years later fitting just as well as the first time. There would be no rush if they were to get married next week, tomorrow, yesterday – it felt like he’d known her forever.

As for having kids … maybe … if in a few years things had cooled down with the world almost ending every other day … they could manage that? And until then, Aroura had a dog, and dogs were good, at least now, despite their reputation in the past. Werewolf woman. Dog with a woman that didn’t work out. And so on.

He could definitely make all of that work, somehow.

Yet he was still afraid. Because, and it made him feel bad to say it, of Dean. There was Dean, there was Castiel, and he didn’t see his brother – despite being with the angel now – giving up their lifestyle any time soon. It was all he’d ever known. Even when he was out, he was in. But when Sam was out, both times, he was completely out. They were different. And he didn’t want Dean to feel like he was walking out on him. If he left the bunker …

He wouldn’t go far, he told himself. He and Aroura would stay close by. Visit often. Work with Dean, work with Cas, work a couple of jobs, ghosts, nests of vampires, shape shifters and the lot, like the early days before the mountain of demons and angels and world-endings that had avalanched onto them. He’d make sure his brother knew that they’d always be close, always be family, always be those two monster-hunting crazy brothers like they’d been for so long.

But, they could both have lives. Sam could be with Aroura. Dean could be with Castiel, in whatever form that took. Maybe they’d get married, maybe they wouldn’t Sam didn’t know what Dean thought of that, not completely anyway, and he definitely didn’t know Cas’s stance on it. Cas had changed a lot, grown a lot as a person since he and Dean had finally gotten through their complete emotional constipation and Sam could definitely see them one day being just like any other normal couple, if they could let go of the past …

Yeah, as Francis had said, couples were getting married earlier and earlier these days. And Sam did in fact like the sound of it; especially the sound of her approval.

‘So, has the feeling of being completely terrified all the time subsided yet?’ Aroura asked, as she and Sam climbed the stairs side by side to return to the west wing of the second floor, which included their bedroom (also Aroura’s bedroom since childhood,) a small upstairs living room and a kitchenette, for meals other than dinner and often breakfast, or if they chose not to dine downstairs on a particular night for any reason.

‘With your grandmother? No,’ Sam answered, his laughter coming easier now.

‘And grandpa?’

‘He’s definitely the easier one to talk to. So,’ Sam sidled into another subject as they reached the top of the stairs, ‘it wasn’t work calling, right?’

‘No,’ Aroura confirmed. ‘Actually, it was your brother.’

Sam stopped.

There was ice in the pit of his stomach. Just when he’d been thinking they were getting out of being constant world heroes, that it was time at last, after over a decade of saving themselves and the world from demons and angels and leviathans and worse, it was coming back. Again. Something was out there and it wasn’t about to let them have any shot at a normal life.

‘What did he say?’ Sam asked at once.

‘He asked if I could just pop in and feed the fish once a day for the rest of the week,’ Aroura shrugged, as calm and chirpy as ever.

‘Why?’ Sam asked.

 _Because they’re chasing after or running from some threat, of course_ , he answered himself.

‘They’re going to Vegas.’

Sam was so relieved that his first response was, ‘without me?’

‘You’d rather be with them?’ Aroura asked, her eyebrows raising delicately, as she floated onwards ahead of Sam who was still standing stationary.

Quickly catching up, he explained, ‘we used to go to Vegas once a year, Dean and me. I told you that, remember?’

‘You told me you were love-poitioned and married a crazy girl named Becky.’

‘Yeah, on one of our annual trips there. We haven’t been back since then.’

‘Maybe that’s a good idea,’ Aroura reasoned. ‘Although, if you’d rather be there …’

‘ _No_ ,’ Sam insisted, laughing, as he grabbed Aroura’s hand. He kissed her in front of the door to their upstairs living room and took her face in his hands. ‘No,’ he promised. ‘Now let’s get our stuff. You promised you’d introduce me to all of your friends today.’

‘Indeed I did,’ Aroura beamed. ‘You grab our jackets. I’ll try and find where I left my purse last night.’

‘Got it,’ Sam agreed, heading off towards the bedroom on his mission.

Sam wondered what Dean and Castiel were doing in Vegas, as he grabbed his jacket and threw it on. Maybe there was a case there that they’d decided to take, having gotten bored of doing nothing of much substance for a week. Though he doubted it. A likelier option would be that Dean decided to take Cas there to … give him a good time. Almost like a vacation of sorts. Though he didn’t see that either, when he thought on it more clearly. When in Vegas, Dean frequented bars and slept with as many women as he could and then repeated it over and over until it was time to leave. But now he had Cas, and he didn’t do that anymore … at least not the part with the women.

‘Ready to go?’ Aroura asked when Sam handed her her jacket.

Sam shrugged it off. It’s not like taking a trip was suspicious, he was just so used to _having_ to be suspicious of everything.

‘Yeah,’ Sam grinned, holding his arm out for Aroura to hold onto, like a proper gentleman escorting his lady somewhere would do in the world inhabited by Francis and her not-terribly-freeing way of life.  

‘So, do you remember any of my friends at all?’ Aroura asked, as they headed for the front door.

‘Not … really,’ Sam admitted, chewing his bottom lip delicately. ‘I remember you were in a band and I think … didn’t one guy have blue hair?’

‘Yeah,’ Aroura nodded, laughing to herself at the memory of the time. ‘When I moved back two months later, it was red. And then it was purple for a few years. And then he got all the dye stripped before going to college.’

‘Whatever happened to your band?’ Sam inquired, realizing he hadn’t yet asked about it, or asked about how she’d ended up in medical school when as far as he could recall she’d wanted to be a writer.

Aroura shrugged.

‘We all went in different directions. Karla saw some TV show and decided she wanted to be a lawyer, and another friend of mine, Asher, wanted the same thing. The guys from the band changed a lot too. Kris runs a hotel right here in Hartford and Mich became a realtor. And I decided I liked helping people after I stopped a guy choking in a restaurant one time using a move I saw in Mrs Doubtfire. So … surgeon it was.’

‘And charity work and surgery are _so_ alike.’

‘Hey, they both help people!’ Aroura told him, defending her current job as they exited the house and headed for Aroura’s car. ‘Just in very different ways. Besides, grandma’s getting older and she needs someone to help. She’s the head of our organization and she wants me to take over for her when she retires.’

‘And do you want to?’ Sam probed, sensing a possible window opening for him to look through into her future, see if it involved anything or anywhere or any _one_ specific.

‘I’d like to,’ Aroura nodded, starting the engine and beginning to back out of the driveway towards the overly fancy gates. ‘It’s not like … I’d have to stick around here or anything. A lot of it is making phone calls, organizing fundraiser events, getting groups organized to do good deeds. I can make phone calls from anywhere and when I need to attend the events I can just … y’know. Leftover Savior powers or whatever.’

Sam tensed.

‘You plan on leaving your grandparents’ house?’

‘Some day,’ Aroura nodded. ‘I mean, they won’t be here forever. They plan on moving to California after they both retire … they’re sixty four, so in a few years they’ll be going most likely … then I can either inherit the house or sell it.’

‘Do you plan on inheriting it, then?’ Sam asked teasingly, hoping he was right in thinking that answer would be no.

‘It’s too pretentious for me,’ Aroura answered, scrunching her nose up in slight distaste, then raising her eyebrows and giving Sam some side eye. ‘Why? You’re not planning on worming your way into my family and inheriting it with me, are you?’

‘Oh, I totally am,’ Sam joked. Sort of. Not exactly joking, if he was honest, though not understanding why he was moving so fast in his head. ‘No. Really, it’s too pretentious for me too. I’m more of a … nice two story and a big back yard for the dog kinda guy. Or dog _s_. And … y’know … kids, maybe. With the right person. Maybe. Possibly. If, say, someone were right and we were right and it was all just …’

‘Right?’ Aroura presumed, eyebrow arched.

‘You took the words right out of my mouth,’ Sam sighed, a sarcastic sigh of extreme agreement and elation at their so-in-sync train of thought.

‘So you don’t plan on staying in the bunker forever, then?’

‘Not forever,’ Sam replied, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his hair, taking it out of its grandmother-approved neat state. ‘We were always on the road before we found that place and then it was just somewhere to come back to … we’ve never really thought beyond it … or never thought that there could be anything more than what there is or … was. Saving the world every day. We didn’t think we could get back to where we started, with just chasing the odd monster causing trouble in a town that we can just catch and move on with.’

‘But now it _is_ like that,’ Aroura pointed out. ‘There’s no big threat hanging over your head. There’s no world ending or super Voldemorty villain terrorizing the Muggles and you and Dean are Harry and his friends having to save everyone.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Sam said quietly, staring down into his lap as Aroura drove on, stealing glances at him in the passenger seat. ‘And that’s weird. I’m not used to that, I keep expecting something to come up. I always expected to just be doing this and then … die on the job? Lose a battle? I never imagined we might actually win.’

‘But you _did_ win.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘So you can have your big back yard. And your dogs. And your kids.’

Sam sighed. He’d thought about it earlier, but now he just had to voice it. And Aroura, she knew, he’d told her already how inseparable he and his brother had always been, how they’d always stuck together through the shit they went through.

‘But, Dean,’ was Sam’s explanation.

‘He probably has his own plans.’

‘Maybe,’ said Sam, uncertain. ‘I don’t know. He and Cas … they seem happy, but I don’t know if I see them like …’

‘You and … whoever … back yard …’

‘Yeah,’ Sam groaned. ‘I feel like leaving him would be like … never seeing him again. Even though I _know_ we’d see each other. He might not want to visit a perfect dream house but we can still go out. Work some normal, easy cases. Hauntings, vampire nests, shape shifters, whatever. Just … not be both stuck in the bunker forever.’

‘It’s not like you leaving means he has to leave too,’ Aroura pointed out, always good at making her points and observations. ‘He and Castiel can stay there if they don’t have big plans of their own. Your brother seems like a complicated man, I understand it could be hard to know what he wants.’

Sam paused. She was making a good point. The car was slowing.

‘He wanted it once,’ Sam told her. She looked at him, and he went on. ‘And he had it. There was this girl, and there was this kid, but it didn’t work out. So he moved on. I don’t know if he’d ever want to go back to that, in case … y’know. It didn’t work again.’

‘Castiel isn’t a girl and a kid,’ Aroura reminded him. ‘And Sam, you don’t have to live by what you think would be best for the prolonged relationship between you and your brother which seems … if I may … like in the past, it may have been slightly … codependent. You can live how you want.’  

‘ _Slightly_ ,’ Sam muttered, scoffing. ‘Aroura, Dean and me have died for each other, gone out of our way to bring each other back no matter what … he got me possessed by an _angel_ instead of letting me die. I cured him from being a demon instead of letting him get on with a new demon life. It’s only recently, like, _really_ recently, since he got rid of the Mark of Cain, since The Darkness, since all that, we’ve started to become more … normal. And it’s only since last month that we’ve started to have a healthier relationship. I’d still die for him, I’m sure he’d die for me and if we died we’d do what we could to try get each other back if there was a way but if there’s no way … I feel like now, we’d be … okay. Normal. Not like we’ve grown apart but like … we’ve _grown_.’

‘Has it been …’ Aroura was quiet and the car was parked in the parking lot of some café. ‘Since I came around?’

‘Partly,’ Sam admitted. ‘Since you, since he and Cas finally got together, since things calmed down and we were just dealing with one threat. The Darkness, you know. It’s been so much easier since all that and really since Cas moved into the bunker full time. Dean and I haven’t just been alone together day in and day out.’

‘And there was Christmas,’ Aroura added, placing a hand on Sam’s knee. ‘Instead of you and Dean just being stuck together, you had fun. You had people over. You did what _normal_ people do and that’s good, Sam. That’s _so_ good.’

Sam smiled, a little sadly, that slowly leaked out into one of happiness as it reached his eyes and he placed his hand on top of hers.

‘I know,’ he told her, and he really did mean it. ‘Things are changing for the better. _Finally_.’

‘Exactly,’ she grinned, back to her usually chirpy self. ‘Now. We can talk more about this later – there’s Asher.’

Aroura pointed to the car next to theirs and a woman their age with a short, blonde haircut and smart looking attire waved to them from behind the steering wheel as she parked.

‘So, we’re going in?’ Sam presumed.

‘Well we’re not about to hang out in the parking lot,’ Aroura remarked, opening her door and starting to climb out. ‘Let’s go.’

Aroura’s friends had changed more than Aroura had. She looked mostly the same, but slightly older with some tattoos; they looked like completely different people, as far as he could recall from what they looked like in memories from long ago. Asher was one he’d never met, however, so he couldn’t really compare her to a past version of herself.

Asher had been the last one to arrive besides Sam and Aroura, the others were inside already talking, looking as close as Sam remembered them being as teenagers.  It was a group of complete strangers if he was honest, with the slightest air of familiarity as he was introduced to each one as they were now.

Karla and Asher were a definite power couple, both lawyers, both with short, smart, business-like haircuts, one dark as the other was fair. They talked about their wedding plans to marry next summer and insisted Aroura bring Sam with her.

‘I need more people on my side,’ Asher said, very seriously. ‘You two have _got_ to come as my guests. Karla has a _huge_ family and all I have is my childhood nanny and her family, my alcoholic mother, my gay ex-boyfriend and seven people from the firm. You _need_ to be there.’

Mich was a very talkative, excitable man who’s glasses kept sliding down his nose. He pushed them up frequently and used his hands a lot when he was talking about the house he was selling to a large family. He gestured the heights of each child as he rambled on about how much he liked them and how much the house would suit them. Sam found himself almost intimidated and slightly scared by the sheer size of the family.

‘Okay, so there’s the dad, then there’s the other dad, and there’s their daughter who’s uh, I think, twenty? And there’s her girlfriend, and then there’s the son, he’s six, he’s smart, he talks a lot. He wants to be a tattoo artist and a drag queen when he grows up – I don’t know how those two go together. Then they have two three year olds, there’s uh … seven? Yeah, seven months between them but I think one is four now – oh, and then, they’re expecting two more kids – I was talking to one of their kids about it, little Janice Josephine, and …’

He did a good ten minutes on that family, then switched to babbling about the most unpleasant family he’d ever had to work with.

‘Their son bit my ankle. He _bit my ankle_! And their daughter, I saw her _eat a leaf_ when I was showing them the garden. She was _fifteen_. They moved into the neighborhood, then, I’m not kidding, I had three families actually selling – they were selling their houses. To get away. Oh, then this one time …’

Kris was as laid back as he had been in his aspiring rock star days but dressed much more sharply. His hair was midlength, golden blond with a lock pushed behind one ear. His hair reminded Sam of Prince Charming from Shrek, or that combined with his chiseled features perhaps could be compared to Jamie Lannister from Game of Thrones. He talked about running his hotel and told funny stories about celebrity guests who visited, then talked of his plans to buy it.

‘I’ve been saving since after college,’ he informed them, apparently having just told his known friends this for the first time too, ‘so I could own my own business. The place goes on the market in the fall so I was thinking, I buy it, me and my buddy Marilyn could co-buy, we’ve been talking about it, then it’s ours to do whatever we want with. First thing on the agenda? Revamp it. It’s such a business-person oriented visiting place. We want to take it up to the next level.’

Thankfully, Aroura managed to keep her friends talking about themselves so much that when it came down to what Sam did for a living, they asked as little as Francis did, out of lack of time rather than lack of interest. The went into depth on completed cases at the lawyer’s firm, the other lawyers Asher and Kara frequently got to work with (‘the sports addict, the wannabe actor, the former child genius, just to name a few,’ said Karla) and heard more about how close Mich frequently had to become with his clients to help families find the right place for them, or make a sale successfully and find the right place to move to when selling up. Kris went into detail about his ideas for new room designs and pulled out some sketches from his friend Marilyn, who was ‘quite the artist.’

They had coffee and cake and talked for an hour and a half. It was odd; Sam was used to diners with bad coffee and cake “dryer than an 87 year old’s vagina” as Dean had so beautifully described the chocolate fudge cake at a rest stop along a highway about a year ago. He wasn’t used to just … going out with people … just because. The last time had been in college, going out with friends, but then again in college it was usually to bars and it was usually at night. It felt nice, to get out for no other reason than to chat and have coffee with other people. And oddly sophisticated since it was something he wasn’t used to.

By the time they left, Sam had grown to like Aroura’s friends a great deal. He was also looking forward to meeting another two of her friends that night, one of whom owned a bar they’d be going to and the other of whom worked at it as the organizer for the live music and various other forms of entertainment that went on there. But for now, they’d be returning to the large and pretentious house Aroura grew up in and she would show him around some more.

‘You need to see storage,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve been waiting until now to show you because grandma’s going out today. Book club meeting. And I was thinking we could try out the pool.’

‘The pool?’ Sam questioned, raising his eyebrows at her in disbelief. He’d seen the pool outside, seen the pool house across from it, both looking as dead as the leafless trees. ‘It’s _January_.’

‘There’s outdoor heaters, and the pool heats up too!’ Aroura defended herself. ‘Come on. When I was a kid I used to go swimming on _Christmas Eve_. Sometimes it was almost freezing!’

‘I … don’t have anything to swim in,’ Sam came up with the only excuse he could think of.

‘There’s this thing … I don’t know if you’ve heard of them … but I think they’re called, oh what’s the word … oh yeah. _Stores_.’

Sam laughed and let out a false defeated sigh.

‘Fine,’ he grumbled, putting on the most adorable frustrated face in the entire world. ‘I guess we’re going shopping.’

Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d willingly gotten into a swimming pool. He’d gone swimming as a kid with school a few times, then once when he was in college he’d gone skinny dipping – which was completely different to going swimming and was both terrifying and thrilling. Then maybe … once, since he’d left Stanford, he’d gone swimming. It was with Amelia during that one year Dean and Castiel were in purgatory and it was pretty fun. He could barely remember it, though. Since that time in his life, he’d done his best to shut it out.

In the store, they got Sam a pair of swimming trunks, but Aroura spent a lot time dragging him around looking for the perfect pair, insisting they had to match her favorite bikini. Sam trailed after her as she pulled him at arm’s length and for once he felt like one of those men that regularly got dragged out shopping by a female partner. He caught the eye of a man perhaps twenty years older than him and they shared knowing grimacing-smiles, as if Sam was a regular at this. He supposed he’d have to get used to it … were he and Aroura to stay together for a long period of time, which he was hoping they would, was planning they would despite the short time they’d been back together.

Upon their return to the house and on the journey getting there, they spoke no more of what they’d gotten into on the journey to meet up with Aroura’s friends. Sam pushed it to the back of his mind, thinking it’d be easier to talk about when he approached it the right way, the way that made it concern Aroura and didn’t make it sound like he was rambling and worrying about a non-definite fantasy future with a faceless female. And then, later, if he did what he was stupidly planning to do, maybe they could sit down with Dean and talk about it then.

But, if Sam knew Dean, he’d be okay with whatever Sam wanted to do as long as Sam was happy and not about to die.

Francis was, as Aroura promised, out. Norman was in the living room reading a newspaper. He was a lecturer at a university six days a week, and today just happened to be a free day for him. He greeted Sam and Aroura when he heard them enter, briefly inquired about their plans for the rest of the day, and left them to it.

The large pretentious house had many unneeded rooms. There was a room filled with nothing but ornaments and furniture you weren’t allowed to sit on, there was one room with a television and stereo that the living room didn’t have, there was a room full of painted portraits and there were many rooms filled with dusty old clothing, probably worn once and then forgotten about. Then there was storage, in the basement, which was what Aroura insisted Sam see and he could see why. It was a shocking and mismatched place, full of full piece furniture sets in various styles in colors, many ugly ornaments, large mirrors and one slightly frightening wooden totem-pole-like coat rack.

‘This is …’ Sam commented, looking around him at the maze of things he couldn’t quite comprehend.

‘A complete mess compared to the house upstairs,’ Aroura finished for him. ‘Seriously though. Grandma can’t help buy everything she likes in a store even though she has no place for it and won’t use a lot of it until she redecorates. So, it comes down here. This was my favorite place when I was a kid, it was like … a whole other world.’

‘That’s what it looks like compared to up there,’ Sam chuckled, glancing at the ceiling and thinking of the pointedly placed objects in all of the rooms above.

There was nothing like this room even in the bunker. This room was endless, deep underground, expanding almost the whole size of the house, and it was packed. It reminded him of the Room of Requirement in the last Harry Potter movie that someone set on fire or something. It was like junk, but it was treasure, packed into one room it didn’t quite fit in, a room that wasn’t quite as bright as the other rooms in the house.

‘So, be honest,’ Aroura began, taking a seat on corner sofa that was out in the middle of the floor, a bookcase pressed right up against its back and a fully assembled wardrobe almost directly in front of it. There were stacked boxes at both sides, with only a small square of space to get in onto the couch, so it was like they were trapped in a tiny room within the room. ‘What did you think of them?’

He knew she was talking about her friends, which hadn’t been brought up as they’d gone through disused rooms, an art room Francis had used once when she’d taken up painting on a whim, a gym used for a week by Norman when he’d had a fitness craze … and so on …

‘I told you what I thought when we were leaving. They’re great.’

‘No complaints?’

‘None that I can think of. And I _definitely_ want to go to that wedding next summer.’

‘Oh, you do, do you?’ Aroura asked playfully.

‘Definitely,’ Sam confirmed. ‘A lawyer on lawyer wedding? I almost went to law school. That’s my scene for sure.’

Aroura laughed, tilting her head to the side, her eyes shining even in mediocre basement lighting.

‘Have you ever even been to a wedding?’

‘One where I wasn’t drugged on a love potion and marrying a crazy chick who … now that I come to think of it … dated, and dumped … _God_?’

They both paused, looking at each other with matching frowns as it dawned on Sam that the crazy Becky he knew and definitely didn’t love and it dawned on Aroura that the crazy Becky she’d heard stories about over the past month literally dumped God because she preferred Sam Winchester.

‘She’s goals, right there,’ Aroura said approvingly, then back on subject, ‘but yeah. That wedding doesn’t count.’

‘Then I’ve never been to one,’ Sam answered.

Aroura smiled at him.

‘Well then you have to go,’ she decided, grabbing hold of one of his hands and squeezing it. Her hand was so small, barely wrapping around his, so that it was like a kitten’s paw next to that of a lion. ‘And who knows, maybe the next one you’ll get to go to after that will be your own. Or your brother’s.’

‘Yeah,’ Sam agreed, squeezing back. ‘Maybe. Or maybe … one of those will come first.’

‘You never know,’ Aroura agreed, shifting closer to Sam on the couch. ‘Maybe. Things are changing, like we said earlier. Maybe you’ll end up with that non-pretentious house with the back yard for the dog before I end up with my super pretentious house to sell.’

‘Maybe you could end up in a non-pretentious house _before_ you inherit the pretentious one,’ Sam said quietly. ‘Because maybe the person I want that non-pretentious house with isn’t exactly … faceless. Maybe the dog already has a name, y’know? Maybe the dog is hanging out somewhere on the third floor of a pretentious house right now and the person is just … right in front of me.’

Sam had dropped his voice to a whisper. Aroura was studying him, her eyes unreadable. They’d always been unreadable, her face a mask of unpredictability.

‘I read something,’ said Aroura, seemingly going down a path that worried Sam since it had nothing to do with their conversation, until it did, ‘on the internet. There were these two people and they dated in fifth grade. Then later, in college, they met again after not seeing each other since fifth grade. After two days of catching up, one of them told the other that she wanted to marry him. They’ve been married for ten years.’

‘Wow, two days of catching up, huh?’ Sam asked, with a slight laugh, keeping calm and casual. Though he was neither. ‘That makes a month seem like …’

‘A year. Maybe more.’

‘Definitely,’ Sam nodded, smiling a smile to himself that he couldn’t fight off. He waited for it to fade, then he asked, ‘what do you want, Aroura?’

‘I told you,’ Aroura replied, sounding perfectly simple. ‘I told you I can work from anywhere. I told you things are changing. Sam, where you go, I’ll follow you. Anywhere. Whether you stay with your brother in the bunker or we go somewhere else. I’ll follow _anywhere_.’

‘Well, in that case …’ Sam said shakily, knowing he’d been stupidly planning on doing this at the end of the week anyway, but now it didn’t seem so stupid. For once, he thought only of himself, as he got down on one knee in the tiny, dimly lit space they were in. ‘Two days, a month, I don’t care. Aroura, I want to marry you.’

Aroura tilted her head to the side, pretending to consider it.

‘Yeah, okay,’ she decided, as if it didn’t really matter to her either way. ‘You’re gonna have to pretend to ask for my grandpa’s permission though. Tonight, at dinner, before we go out and I get to introduce you to those other two friends of mine.’

‘I’ll use all of my best acting abilities to make him think he’s the first one I asked,’ Sam swore, free hand over his heart.

‘Great!’ Aroura beamed, perky, and swiftly kissed him. Then she jumped to her feet and announced, ‘let’s go swimming, then!’ as if being proposed to was an everyday occurrence.

‘Sure, let’s go,’ Sam agreed, getting off of one knee and letting her drag him out and up towards the light of the house above, which he’d almost forgotten was there. Storage truly was like another world, where no one else existed.

As Sam followed behind his now-fiancé, he didn’t think about any past relationships he could compare this one to, he didn’t think about what he’d have to tell Dean about leaving or not leaving or future plans, he didn’t even think about that night where he’d have to ask Norman for Aroura’s hand. Instead, he thought about the world as it changed around him, about what Aroura would look like in her bikini that apparently matched the swimming trunks she’d bought him and whether or not he could splash Aroura at one end of the pool and beat her to the other side before she had a chance to splash him back.


	35. The Road to the Clouds

Okay, so maybe they weren’t getting married as soon as they’d thought they were. The drive in itself to Vegas, when traffic free, was over sixteen hours, not to mention it was the middle of the day and even later by the time they’d thrown everything they wanted to take into bags and put them in the trunk. As they finally hit the road, it was three o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon, on the twenty sixth of January.

‘We should stop somewhere tonight,’ Dean suggested, as they powered along the road. ‘If we go the whole way without stopping we’ll be exhausted when we get there.’

‘Perhaps we could go out, wherever we stop,’ Castiel suggested. ‘A bar, maybe.’

‘You wanna go to a bar?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

‘Well, I’m not unfamiliar with the concept of bachelor parties,’ Castiel told him matter-of-factly, raising his eyebrows and giving Dean the most adorable look on the entire fucking planet.

‘Oh really?’ Dean asked, eyebrow raised suggestively. ‘Well, y’know, the whole point of those is to celebrate your last night of freedom, away from the person you’re about to marry. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to celebrate that.’

‘Then we won’t,’ Castiel decided. ‘We’ll celebrate our last night as two unmarried men.’

‘Or maybe our second last night,’ Dean realized, checking the time. ‘Long driving day tomorrow, we’ll want to sleep tomorrow night. Then we can … hey, the day after tomorrow is Thursday, right?’

‘Yes, it is. So we get married on …’ Cas trailed off, realizing why Dean had wanted to confirm it. ‘We met on a Thursday.’

‘And you’re the Angel of Thursday.’

‘It worked out rather well, don’t you think?’ Castiel grinned, Dean nodding along with him. ‘Okay, so then, we go out to celebrate it tonight, we stay _in_ to celebrate it tomorrow night, then we get married. We get _married_. Like regular people do. That whole … marriage … type … thing.’

Dean exhaled a laugh, then took a deep breath as he digested it. As he thought about it, it became less and less sudden seeming, and more and more right.

‘Bet you never thought you’d end up like one of those humans you watched over for so long. Married, stuck with the same loser for the rest of your life.’

‘I truly didn’t,’ Castiel agreed, looking perplexed by his entire thought process at the moment. ‘And you’re not a loser, Dean.’

‘Well, sort of.’

‘Not at all,’ Castiel told him seriously, placing a hand on his leg, ‘although if you insist that you are, then I must be, too.’

‘We can be losers together,’ Dean suggested.

‘That sounds like a wonderful concept.’

Dean smiled again, with what seemed like his entire body. Like a fire burned within him, burning brightly for a concept he’d always looked upon with a distaste for it, never imagining himself being one of those people who could actually go out and get _married_. He didn’t even like the word. Until now. Because it made sense, didn’t it? Castiel had saved him, in every sense of the word, they had a profound bond, a bond that should be solidified not only by how it felt, but in a way the world could perceive it. No one ever said ‘hey, this is whoever, we have a profound bond.’ But the word husband, or wife, or any other term people used, _that_ could be perceived by even the dullest of minds.

Even if they didn’t understand how deep the bond truly went.

‘We’ll have to find a place to rent suits or something,’ Dean realized. His heart should have been hammering in his chest, but it wasn’t. He was perfectly calm. He knew this is what he was meant to do.

‘Were we supposed to bring them?’ Cas asked. ‘It’s not too late to turn back. We could go get my suit that I wore with my trench coat and the suit you wear when impersonating an FBI officer.’

Dean nodded.

‘Yeah, I thought of that,’ he explained, ‘but it seemed so … done already. I don’t want to wear something that I’ve worn when poking at dead bodies in a morgue.’

Castiel tilted his head to the side. He figured it made sense.

‘I see your point,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t suppose it would be the greatest way to start off … our marriage.’ He still felt strange saying the word. _Him. An Angel of the Lord. Married._ ‘Me wearing a suit I wore non-stop for years, that I wore during some of my darkest moments …’

‘We’ll find something,’ Dean promised him. ‘Nothing fancy. Pants, jackets, shirts. No need to go full on Double-Oh-Seven.’

Castiel’s brow furrowed.

‘Who?’

Dean laughed, his heart warming, as he was reminded of how Cas was still so … Cas.

‘It’s this … movie thing. And don’t ask me to show you the movie, it would probably take years to get through every single Double-Oh-Seven movie out there. Long story short? James Bond, Agent Double-Oh-Seven, wears a lot of fancy suits and tuxedos and things.’

‘Sounds …’ Castiel struggled to find a word describe the thing he still didn’t completely understand. ‘Interesting.’

‘Sometimes,’ said Dean, nodding. ‘But sometimes it’s boring as fuck. I see them on TV and I’m like, damn, I’d much rather they play some cheesy chick flick, because at least those aren’t three hours long with more action scenes than any normal person goes through in a lifetime.’

Castiel chuckled, smiling to himself about the word “lifetime.” A lifetime of Dean and his movie opinions and his smile and the freckles highlighted by the ray of sun penetrating the clouds and finding its way into the car. A lifetime of watching Dean’s hands on the wheel, lazy as they cruised and firm when they turned a corner, freckles dotted across those too. A lifetime of car journeys with him. A lifetime of _life_ journeys with him. It was more than he could ever imagined with the broadest parts of his imagination when they first met, and now it was more than he could have ever dreamed of.

A lifetime of Dean Winchester.

Some angels got to watch over humanity. Castiel got to be a part of it, and he couldn’t imagine his journey continuing any other way. He didn’t want to and even if he did want to, he wouldn’t have been able.

‘What are you so happy about?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at the slightly zoned-out constant smile on Cas’s face.

‘Guess,’ Cas commanded.

‘Because … you brought two books with you instead of one?’ Dean fathomed, appearing clueless, although he knew the answer.

‘Yes, Dean,’ Castiel remarked sarcastically with a wave of underlying sass, ‘because the books and I decided simultaneously to ourselves as we spoke that we were going to get married, something I’d never dreamed I would ever want to do, and now we’re on our way to Las Vegas to act upon that.’

‘Oh, really?’ Dean asked, doing his best not to break out into the hugest smile, which would ruin his joke. ‘I hope you and your books are very happy together.’

‘My books and appreciate that,’ Castiel replied sincerely.

Dean laughed at his extreme sincerity and how easy it seemed to come. Cas hid his true thoughts well when he wanted to prolong a mutual joke, one that probably sounded completely stupid and were anyone around to witness it they’d be hitting themselves in the face, or planning to pull off their own arm so they’d have something to throw at the two bad-joking morons.

Dean would take a forever of bad jokes, whether mutual or of Cas’s own invention, and he didn’t know why he’d ever thought twice about it.

‘I love you, Cas,’ Dean said matter-of-factly, plainly, as if reading the information from a book and deciding to share it out loud.

‘I know,’ Cas replied, having never been more certain of anything in his life, even after all the years of uncertainty. ‘I love you too.’

‘And that’s enough,’ Dean decided, telling Cas as soon as the thought occurred to him, confident, with an accompanying knee pat. ‘You and me, we’re enough.’

‘Enough for what?’ Castiel asked, tilting his head. In truth he understood, the words bringing meaning to themselves in his own head, but he needed to hear how they sounded in Dean’s.

‘Anything,’ Dean replied, the simplicity groundbreaking. ‘As long as we’ve got us, then we have enough. Whether we’re in a world where there’s a second apocalypse reigning over us, or a world filled with sunshine and rainbows and unicorns.’

Cas raised an eyebrow heavy with distaste and disbelief at Dean’s outrageous comment.

‘Unicorns?’ he challenged. ‘Really, Dean?’

‘Hey, angels are a thing,’ Dean defended himself. ‘Let the unicorns live, okay? Their blood as healing powers.’

‘Unicorns aren’t real. Nor is their blood.’

‘Huh, well you clearly didn’t pay attention when you were watching Harry Potter.’

Castiel exhaled, trying not to laugh, letting his eyes close and his head fall back in exasperation. Despite himself, his shoulders shook with bottled up laughter and his mouth followed suit, the corners twitching upwards into a smile. He looked at Dean, sighing, smiling at Dean’s smug little smile and bright eyes which radiated the fact that he was happy he’d gotten one up on Cas.

Castiel sighed, in complete awe and amazement at the man before him.

‘Why are you never like this around anyone else?’ he asked. ‘Or rarely, at least.’

‘Like what?’ Dean inquired.

‘Like you are with me,’ Cas explained. ‘You make references to things and your enjoyment of those things is clear and your tone and manor. You let out the side of yourself that could be described by many as a nerd. It’s … nice.’

‘I trust you more than anyone else,’ Dean shrugged, the abruptness of his answer surprising Cas. ‘I know you’re the only one there is who won’t judge me for anything I say. Tease me? Yeah, probably, but I know you’d never judge me for it.’

‘In actuality, I’m judging you quite harshly right now,’ Castiel countered, raising his eyebrows and feeling yet another seed of happiness be planted in his heart and start to grow.

‘Yeah, but you’d never let it change your opinion of me,’ Dean explained. ‘If I start talking about shit like Harry Potter around Sam, he’ll give me shit for the times I _jokingly_ gave him shit for that kind of thing in the past, and he’ll never let me forget it. He’ll use every damn opportunity to make fun of me for it if he finds out about all the stuff I actually like. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about me. There’s a lot _you_ don’t know about me.’

‘It does change my opinion of you,’ Cas corrected, yet again. ‘It just makes me love you _more_.’

‘And that’s why I can only be completely open with _you_.’

‘Yet there’s a lot of stuff I don’t know about you.’

‘Well, what do you want to know?’

‘Anything,’ Castiel decided. ‘Everything. The stuff you definitely wouldn’t ever dream of telling Sam.’

‘Alright, let’s see,’ Dean muttered, frowning to himself as he thought, searching his mind for random facts. ‘Uh, I used to like drawing. When I was a teenager. I’d sketch on my books in class if it was boring, and I got pretty good.’

‘What did you draw?’ Castiel asked.

‘Depended on the day,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I liked to draw eyes. Birds and shit I saw out the window. The captain of the football team, erase him, replace him with the head cheerleader in the last school I ever went to.’

Cas arched an eyebrow.

‘The captain of the football team and the head cheerleader?’ Castiel challenged.

‘Hey, I was dating both of them!’ Dean defended himself, making Cas’s eyebrows shoot towards the sky, so he thought he’d better defend himself. ‘Look, she was dating the Quarterback of the girl’s football team, I was dating the captain of the guy’s one – told myself it was just a phase – and I found her crying one day about it.’

‘She was _crying_?’

‘Yeah. I asked her what was wrong, and she thought that was really nice, so she told me everything. That she didn’t want to be found out, someone almost did find out, all that. So I offered to pretend to date her so no one found out, then I told her who I was secretly dating. We promised not to tell anyone about each others’ private business, we faked it until I left and I found out later that during graduation she and her girlfriend went public.’

Castiel had never felt more admiration than he felt for Dean at that moment.

‘You’re the nicest, kindest, most caring person I’ve ever met,’ he stated, touching Dean’s arm lightly. He could tell Dean was blushing.

‘I try,’ he mumbled. ‘I wasn’t just the asshole in the leather jacket who moved around a lot. I was the _nice_ asshole in the leather jacket who moved around a lot.’

‘And it _is_ a nice asshole,’ Castiel nodded, smirking, pretending to agree with him as if he’d misunderstood, although he did agree with Dean’s original statement too.

‘Oh, come on,’ Dean scoffed. ‘There’s no such thing as a _nice_ asshole. It’s an _asshole_. It’s a hole in an ass that shit comes out of.’

‘So?’ Cas challenged, folding his arms. ‘That doesn’t mean it can’t be nice.’

‘You’re insane,’ Dean decided.

‘Maybe,’ Cas agreed. ‘Now tell me more about what I don’t know about you.’

‘Fine,’ Dean sighed, tossing around his thoughts. ‘I really like infomercials.’

‘You what?’ Castiel asked, having seen infomercials on TV back when he was recovering from that attack dog spell. They usually came on in the middle of the night.

‘I like infomercials,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Years ago, before we found the bunker, we always stayed in motels. I used to find it hard to sleep a lot so I’d turn on the TV. And there was something, I don’t know, satisfying? Satisfying about watching the same one over and over, to know where the exact start and finish was. It was mostly cleaning equipment or exercise stuff, but it was cool to watch.’

‘Any other strange television habits I should know about?’

Dean hesitated. There was one he was sort of … embarrassed to tell even Cas about. But then he remembered it was _Cas_.

‘Do you know what a drag queen is?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel answered promptly.

Dean was taken aback, having expected the opposite answer.

‘You do? How?’

‘Television,’ Castiel answered. ‘When I was recovering from … well, you remember … I made a point to visit every channel of the television I could. When I was close to two hundred channels in, there was this station I recall was called Logo or something, and there was an advert for a show about a drag queen competition. They’re men who are, of sorts … female impersonators, correct?’

‘Yeah, yeah exactly. And I think I know the show you’re talking about.’ For some reason, his heart rate had increased. ‘It’s, uh, Rupaul’s Drag Race, right?’

‘I think so,’ Castiel confirmed.

‘Yeah, well, I sometimes … watch that,’ he admitted, quickly going on to say, ‘that drag queen, Rupaul, was a household name in the nineties so when I was watching TV in a motel when Sam was at the library one night and came across the channel and saw the name, I got curious, so …’

‘You watched the show.’

‘Yeah. And now every so often I just … check it out. They’re pretty hot, man.’

‘They are,’ Castiel agreed, ‘or what I’ve seen has been. They made, mostly, very convincing women.’

‘They’re talented as fuck,’ Dean nodded. ‘But I don’t really like talking about it, y’know? I just feel a little weird about it, even if it’s you.’

‘Then tell me something else I don’t know about you.’

‘Alright, then,’ Dean replied, biting his bottom lip as he struggled to think of something random. ‘My favorite color before I saw your eyes was purple.’

‘Purple?’

‘Purple, yeah.’

‘I like purple,’ Castiel mused, thinking about various shades of the color. ‘Why purple?’

Dean shrugged.

‘It just looks nice,’ he decided was a good reason. ‘Purple and black look cool together. And I like black, because the car and my dark ass soul, so I like purple and black together.’

‘Your soul is not dark,’ Castiel frowned.

‘Have you seen it lately?’ Dean shot back, teasing.

‘Not literally,’ Castiel responded, ‘but I feel as though I have. Earlier, when we were talking and that resulted in our marriage decision, and now, learning random facts I didn’t know but am overly joyed to have learned about you. And I’d like to know more.’

‘I’ll tell you anything you want to hear,’ Dean promised.

‘Go on.’

‘Right … let’s see …’

They exchanged information back and forth for the next hour or so, bouncing things off of each other. Castiel dove within himself to figure out some of his personal preferences and likes and dislikes, and learned a lot about himself in the process. It was odd, thinking that once he didn’t have these kinds of opinions. Or, maybe he’d always had them, but he’d been too blind to see or acknowledge them when he was fresh out of heaven and here on a mission and stopping the apocalypse or whatever. Thanks to Dean, Cas was more in touch with himself than he’d ever been, and he liked that. He’d never truly felt like a person, but his development towards that having gone slowly in the past was now speeding up, and he was enjoying it.

They made a stop as evening crept closer and picked up two bags of fries to hold them over until they found a place to stop, check in, then go out for food. Their talk lessened, Cas pulled out Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. Dean put in a tape of The Beatles and kept it on at mid-volume so he wouldn’t disturb Cas’s reading too much.

Around 8pm, they pulled into Akron, Colorado, the nearest place Dean could think of that wasn’t too off track but almost certainly had a place to stay. From there, it would be a twelve hour drive tomorrow and they’d reach Vegas by tomorrow night.

They checked into a single room at Mojos Inn. It seemed comfortable enough, the room coming with a queen sized bed, television, coffee maker and various other appliances they likely wouldn’t need. It was a little harder to get a room considering they’d missed check in time earlier in the day, but Dean slipped an extra twenty across the desk along with the standard one-night fee for the room, which guaranteed them a spot.

As soon as they got to their room, they put down their bags and took turns freshening up after the long drive. Dean took out the basic things they’d use that night from their bags and placed them around where they could easily access them. While Cas brushed his teeth (greasy fries) and splashed water on his face, Dean pulled out his laptop and did some searching around for a place they could go out to. He hadn’t seen anywhere particularly appealing on the drive in, and their room had free internet access so he might as well use it. He was getting better at logging into that kind of thing without help from his techy younger brother.

‘The nearest decent bar is over a half hour’s drive away,’ Dean informed Cas as Cas left the bathroom, walking towards him and stretching his back as he did, having been sitting all day.

‘Does that mean we can’t go?’ Castiel asked, seemingly slightly disappointed. The fact that Cas genuinely seemed to have wanted to go out, to a bar, with Dean, to hang out and drink and grab some food and do whatever else, made Dean feel a weird sense of happiness and satisfaction.

‘We still could,’ Dean told him. ‘We’d have to drive. One thing we could do is one of us would just have to not drink. I may break a lot of laws, but I’m not stupid enough to drink and drive.’

‘One thing?’ Cas asked, sitting down beside Dean on the bed and glancing at the computer screen. Cable’s Pub & Grill was up on it, and Dean was looking at the reviews. They were mostly positive.

‘Another thing we could do is take a cab. That’s not my favorite thing in the world to do, but I’ve got nothing against it.’

‘Maybe we should,’ Castiel nodded. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

‘Oh, you know. Three car pile up, fire, explosions, unexpected nudity, public exposure, public humiliation, severe injury and death. But that’s very unlikely to happen twice.’

Castiel frowned, looking and feeling horrified, until he saw Dean’s smirk.

‘You’re kidding,’ he decided.

‘Yeah,’ Dean laughed. ‘Last time the worst thing that happened was that Sam got hammered and threw up all over the back seat and we had to pay for it to be cleaned. The _worst_ cab-related thing that happened was when a cab-driving reaper got Sam into hell to rescue Bobby but then died before he could get him out. But _that’s_ unlikely to happen twice.’

‘You’re funny,’ Castiel smiled, kissing Dean’s cheek and looking once more at the computer screen and reading the reviews. ‘Great pizza. Good burgers. But pricey?’

‘Who cares about price?’ Dean asked. ‘We’re getting married. We can’t put limitations on anything right now.’

‘I suppose so,’ Cas grinned. ‘This is amazing. _You’re_ amazing. And funny. And beautiful. And kind. And you are absolutely, positively, my favorite human on this planet.’

‘There’s billions of humans on Earth yet I’m your favorite?’

‘Yes.’

Dean wanted look away bashfully, but forced himself to keep staring into the blue pools of adoration boring into him and making his cheeks flush. He dipped in, kissed Cas so quickly it was if he hadn’t done it at all and replied, ‘and you’re my favorite human, former angel and you were my favorite angel when you were one. Actually, you’re probably still my favorite angel. Most of the ones I’ve met suck, no offence.’

‘None taken,’ Cas laughed. ‘A lot of the ones you’ve encountered do suck. So,’ he said, changing his tone and the subject as he got to his feet. ‘I’m going to change my clothes. It feels like I’ve been stuck in these ones for years after this long day.’

‘Pick me out another shirt to wear,’ Dean requested. ‘I kept dropping fries on this one, it’s not easy to eat and drive. I’ll look up the number of a cab company.’

‘Don’t take too long,’ said Cas.

‘I won’t,’ Dean replied, just as a clean shirt hit him in the side of the head. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’

An accompanying t-shirt followed soon after.

Dean quickly found a number and called, smirking as he spoke as he watched Cas look through all of the clothes he’d brought with him, without anything on the upper half of his body. He was tempted to wander over and run a finger over the muscular shoulders flexing as he bent over his bag, but restrained himself as he gave the address of the motel and said they’d be waiting outside.

‘Are you going through _my_ bag?’ Dean asked, pulling off the open flannel shirt and then the t-shirt he was wearing to put on the one that had collided with his head.

‘I didn’t look at what I was packing,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I don’t feel like wearing Harry Potter sweaters or sweaters with skulls on them out tonight. And the blue tie-dye thing seems like more of a daytime thing to wear.’

‘Fair enough,’ Dean smirked, pulling on the plain black t-shirt and shrugging into the denim one he was leaving open over it. ‘That one – wear that one.’

Castiel raised an eyebrow, looking down at the blue and white flannel he’d just pulled out of Dean’s bag, smirked at Dean’s urgent insistence, and slipped his arms into it. He buttoned it slowly as Dean watched him, then, as Dean had advised him once, left the top few buttons open.

‘Maybe I’ll wear these too,’ Castiel mused, looking at a pair of his own well-fitting straight cut jeans he’d pulled out of his bag. He knew Dean liked them, judging by how he looked at Cas whenever he was wearing them.

‘Fuck, yes.’

Cas’s eyebrows raised again, and he made sure to change as slowly as he possibly could. As soon as he was done he felt Dean’s hands on his waist, his lips on his neck, but he pushed him away.

‘Not now, Dean,’ he instructed. ‘Or we’ll miss our cab.’

‘Damn the cab,’ Dean muttered, going to grab his phone, wallet and the keys to the room as Cas went to do the same.

They didn’t have to wait long for the cab. It was cool, dark and the stars were out above them. Dean saw Cas staring and wondered what he was thinking about, but Cas’s face gave nothing away. They waited mostly in silence and got in the back together, Dean gave the address of where they were going, then they relaxed into each others’ sides.

The driver wasn’t particularly talkative, commenting on the weather and how busy the roads were, but not much else. Dean and Cas stayed silent too, the silence slightly uncomfortable and the atmosphere very night-like. They were grateful to step out and into the bar, past the people sitting at the outside tables. It was an appealing place, the sign outside lit up in the darkness.

It wasn’t overly busy inside. There were some people eating and talking and some people at the pool tables. Dean and Cas headed for the bar and Dean ordered two beers, plus asked for menus. And then he cancelled the beers.

‘Actually, no,’ he decided. ‘We’re celebrating. Have you got anything better suited for that?’

‘Wine?’ the bartender suggested.

Dean looked at Cas. He shrugged.

‘Two glasses and a bottle of whichever you think is the best,’ Dean decided.

‘What’s the occasion?’ the bartender asked, pulling out the glasses.

‘We’re getting married,’ said Castiel.

‘Thursday,’ Dean added. ‘Decided on it today.’

The bartender looked a little startled at first, most likely by the casual manor and the extremely close wedding date.

‘Congratulations,’ he told them, placing the bottle in front of them. ‘You know what? Tonight, you guys eat half price.’

Dean and Cas looked at each other, grinning. This whole getting married thing wasn’t half bad.

They took their drink to a table and went over their menus. Everything looked good, it was a difficult choice. The choice between getting burgers or a pizza was the most difficult, so they decided on a cheeseburger pizza, which was a thing, a really awesome thing, to share. They decided to get two sides of fries to accompany it.

The pizza was possibly the most spectacular thing either one of them had ever tasted in their lives. It was as if their lives had been building up to eat the pizza, because _fuck_ , it was _good_. Yet still, nowhere near as delicious as the lips the two of them would get to kiss every day for the rest of their lives. And the fact that they were getting married on Thursday and that made their meal half price was even sweeter in the deal.

The fact that they were drinking wine with their meal was almost as odd as the fact that they’d never before encountered cheeseburger pizza. Dean was used to old fashioned, cheap, run-of-the-mill beer, especially when out. Never anything as sophisticated as wine. But it tasted good, reminding him slightly of vinegar, which he liked to smother his fries in and had a particular taste for. He remembered as a child convincing his father to buy him vinegar “in case we buy fries somewhere they don’t have any” and then getting in trouble for putting some on the back of his hand and licking it off. Every day.

‘You used to do _what_?’ Castiel asked, outrageously shocked, when Dean voiced the memory to him as it crossed his mind.

‘Don’t judge me!’ Dean protested, frowning at him. ‘You’re not allowed to judge me anymore. We’re getting married.’

‘Oh, I’m still allowed to judge you,’ Castiel commented coolly. ‘In fact, I’m allowed to judge you even more harshly than ever before. I’m just stuck with you now, no matter what I find out.’

‘What if I told you that that I used to dip my fries in coke before I ate them?’

‘Is it too late to call off the wedding?’

‘Well, considering we’ve already driven so far …’

Cas heaved out a heavy sigh, laden with false regret. He had no real regrets to sigh about.

‘Fuck. Then, I say … I’m glad I didn’t know you as a child.’

‘Oh, come on. You would have loved me. I was adorable.’

‘You were weird and gross.’

Dean narrowed his eyes grumpily. He stared at Cas, knowing that would break him, waiting for Cas’s smile to creep onto his face soon afterwards. Dean grinned in satisfaction and stabbed a fry with his fork while staring at Cas, looking so annoyingly smug that it made Cas want to … do something like reach over and steal Dean’s last slice of pizza. But, he restrained himself, shook his head and sighed in exasperation.

‘You make it impossible to keep a straight face.’

‘So does your sexuality.’

Cas’s hand automatically found its way to cover his eyes as he leaned his elbow on the table and groaned. Do not laugh. Do not laugh. _Do not laugh_.

Cas laughed.

‘You’re such a fucking idiot,’ Castiel stated blatantly, uncovering his eyes and leaning back into his seat to pick up the rest of his own last slice of pizza. ‘And I’ve never seen you happier.’

‘I’ve never _been_ happier,’ Dean replied, his statement just as blatant, making Cas stagger and almost drop his pizza slice.

‘Neither have I,’ Cas beamed, staring affectionately at Dean across the table. His non-pizza holding hand reached for Dean’s, resting on the table next to his glass. ‘Thank you for that. Thank you for _everything_.’

‘No,’ Dean shook his head, squeezing Cas’s hand and running his thumb across the knuckles. ‘Thank _you_. You fixed me, Cas.’

If it was possible, which it wasn’t but totally was, Castiel could see the affection, the admiration, the pure _gratitude_ in Dean’s shining eyes, which he noticed for the first time were completely clear of the shadow, the hardship and the hopelessness that had resided in them for so many years, that had hurt Cas when he saw it begin to creep in and set up camp, like it would never leave.

Dean looked like he’d been fixed. He looked better than he had in all the time Cas had known him. And Cas knew without even looking at himself, without even comparing how he felt now to a past time, that he did too.

‘You completed me,’ Cas informed him, honest and simple. ‘I’ve watched over this world for millions of years. I’ve been a part of it for what seems like a minute compared to all of that. I’ve been _living_ , truly, for what seems like a fraction of a second compared to those years. There’s nothing I don’t know how to do. Nothing, except live without _you_. It would be like the planet trying to survive without the oceans that cover the surface; impossible, and completely unimaginable.’

A single tear slipped from the corner of Dean’s eye. He tried, tried and tried again to find something, anything to say that could match up, that could show exactly how he felt, show that he felt the same thing, but it couldn’t be done. Cas had said enough for both of them, and he knew that Cas knew that Dean meant every word of it right back.

‘You will _never_ have to live without me,’ Dean promised. ‘I don’t care if that means never hunting down a single crazy-ass monster again, whatever it takes, I’ll do it to make sure we’ll be together for as long as we can.’ He swallowed a lump in his throat that was harder to swallow that one pointy fry he’d accidentally swallowed sideways earlier. ‘Because you make me feel safe. And that’s a feeling I could get used to.’

Cas didn’t have to say anything. Dean _knew_.

‘Wipe your eyes and finish your pizza before I finish it for you,’ he commanded, nodding towards the one full slice still on the plate and attempting to blink away the moisture welling up in his eyes. ‘Let’s not waste tonight dwelling on the past and how the present is so much better than it. We have forever for that. Tonight, I want to finish this bottle of wine, grab something else to drink after it and have you teach me how to play pool.’

Obediently, Dean picked up his pizza, took a bite, chewed and swallowed.

‘You’ve got yourself a deal,’ Dean agreed.

The paid for the meal and for the wine once they’d finished eating. They topped up their wine glasses until the bottle was empty and left that, along with their cleared plates, at the table and headed over towards one of the free pool tables, glasses in hand. The placed the glasses nearby, and Dean went about explaining the rules of pool.

Dean was disappointed to find Cas was really fucking good at pool, like he was at everything, so the only time Dean got to go up behind Cas and press against him was when he was first showing him how to use the pool cue.

And then Cas, playing his _first ever_ game of pool, proceeded to beat Dean’s ass. Hard.

‘Okay,’ Dean declared, not letting his confidence be shaken, ‘this time, I won’t go easy on you.’

Castiel smirked. And won again.

‘Dude,’ the woman at the next pool table commented, looking at Dean and laughing, ‘he’s whoopin’ your ass.’

‘Beginner’s luck,’ Dean declared.

‘I never had no beginner’s luck,’ the woman answered, eyeing Cas up and down in a way that made Dean want to hiss “ _stop checking him out, he’s mine_.”

‘She bombed big time,’ the man in the torn shirt with the nose ring that she was playing against chipped in. ‘She still sucks.’

‘Careful before I hit you with this friggin’ pool bat,’ the woman snapped at her opponent. ‘But seriously, dude. You rock.’

Castiel smirked. Dean could practically see his ego inflating and he knew Cas had found something to tease Dean about in the future whenever he needed it.

‘I try,’ Cas grinned, looking casual as ever, ‘perhaps I just have a lot of natural talent.’

‘You guys wanna join up for a game?’ asked nose ring guy. ‘All for fun. Beats playing the same game over and over knowing who’s gonna win.’

‘Me,’ said the woman. ‘I win. Every time. Last three games – but yeah, wanna play?’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look, some shrugs, and they were in.

They ended up playing a lot of games with a lot of people over the course of the night. Some was all against all, some it was two on two, once it was two on two on two on one very smug player who declared she could beat all of them and, to be fair, she did. Once the wine glasses were empty, Dean and Cas switched to beer and kept playing, some games for fun, some for money. They lost fifty in one game – but earned it back next game, with an extra twenty, and with their skills, just kept on gaining.

Interacting with other people was a rare opportunity outside of working jobs, so getting to do it was almost a luxury. Random bits of information was exchanged. The couple they’d started out playing against, Gina and Stiles, were passing through on their way to Vegas to play the slots. The smug solo player that three teams of two had lost against was a regular at the bar. And other people had their stories, their reasons for being where they were that night. When Dean and Cas gave theirs, they didn’t pay for a single drink for the rest of the night, everyone wanted to buy theirs for them.

They left around midnight, arm in arm as they got into the cab, another silent journey back to the motel. Dean had his head against Cas’s shoulder and Cas’s arm was around his waist. Castiel could tell Dean was tired, after driving half the day and drinking into the night, and of course after that morning which seemed like it was in a whole other lifetime. Cas could definitely feel the effect the day was having on him, too, and the fogginess in his head from the alcohol didn’t help matters much, but he stayed awake the entire journey and shook Dean from his half-asleep state once they arrived, and paid the driver with some of the money he’d won playing poker with a couple from out of town who were just passing through while on a journey to find somewhere they wanted to be.

‘Great night,’ Dean commented sleepily, Cas’s arm still around his waist as they walked through the door of their room together.

Cas locked the door behind them, grinning, not sure if he’d ever be able to stop.

‘It was,’ he agreed, heading towards the bed, still attached at the hip to the tired man at his side. ‘We should do it again.’

‘Definitely,’ Dean agreed. Then yawned. ‘I’m tired.’

‘I can tell,’ Cas chuckled, yawning himself. ‘So am I.’

‘We should get up … early … ish,’ Dean decided, plopping down onto the bed on his back, arms behind his head, knees bent and feet on the floor. ‘So we can sleep tomorrow night. Not be tired when we, y’know …’

‘I agree,’ Castiel grinned, sitting down beside where Dean lay. He began unbuttoning his, well Dean’s, shirt and when he was done he tossed it on the floor. ‘I need to brush my teeth. But I think you should go first or else you’ll fall asleep.’

‘Right,’ said Dean. And he paused. For a while. ‘Oh. Right.’

He got up as if he hadn’t first registered Cas’s suggestion and wandered over to the bathroom, undressing as he went, not bothering to close the door as he walked in and looked in the mirror.

‘I look shitty,’ he declared.

‘You look pretty,’ Cas countered. ‘And tired. Hurry up.’

‘Right,’ Dean repeated again, nodding. ‘Right.’

Neither one of them remembered much after that.

When the phone alarm went off at eight in the morning, Dean vaguely remembered setting it the night before in the cab on the way to the bar. It was obnoxiously loud and he turned it off at once, rolling back over away from it, completely prepared to back to sleep for the next three or four hours. And then he remembered why it was set so early.

 _We’re getting married tomorrow_.

He sat up straight. He noticed Cas had awoken at the sound of the alarm too and was blinking at the ceiling, clearing the sleep from his eyes.

‘What time is it?’ he mumbled.

‘Eight,’ Dean told him.

‘Disgusting,’ Castiel replied, turned over and shoved his face in his pillow. 

‘Cas,’ Dean stated groggily, clearing his throat after, ‘come on. Get up.’

He ran a hand up his spine and Castiel shuddered. He turned his head to squint up at Dean.

‘Why?’ he demanded, tightening his arms around his pillow defensively.

‘We have twelve hours of driving to do,’ Dean reminded him. ‘So,’ he mumbled, bending down to kiss Cas’s exposed shoulder blade, ‘we should get an early start.’

‘ _Early_ start?’ Castiel groaned, pushing himself up on his elbow. ‘Who are you and what have you done with Dean Winchester?’

‘You didn’t seem to object to the suggestion last night,’ Dean pointed out, sliding back down into bed and propping himself up similarly to Cas so he could lean in and kiss his mouth and pull back before Cas had time to respond. ‘I know it’s early. I’d rather sleep in too. But tomorrow …’

‘Yes,’ Castiel whispered, remembering suddenly and shoving the covers away from him. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed in one fluid motion. ‘Tomorrow. We should get started.’

He stood up and pushed down his underwear which he’d slept in, kicking it off as he walked, and came to a stop at the bathroom door.

‘Come on,’ he urged Dean, who was staring with a smirk on his face, ‘shower. Hurry up.’

‘I’m coming,’ Dean said quickly, climbing out of bed, following him and shedding his underwear as he went.

At the bathroom door, Dean grabbed Cas by the waist, grinded the two of them together at the center and kissed him fiercely. Castiel responded by wrapping his arms around Dean, trailing the tips of his fingers down his back and then digging them into his ass. He dug them into the soft flesh over and over, walking backwards and pulling Dean with him while they were still joined, then the slammed into the bathroom sink.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Cas snapped, pulling his head away from Dean and letting him go. ‘That _hurt_.’

‘You okay?’ Dean asked, then, jokingly and sheepish he asked, ‘you didn’t hurt the sink, did you?’

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him.

‘Fuck you,’ he decided, turned away, and stepped into the shower, turning the water on as he did.

Dean’s smirk was satisfied when the water came out cold at first, and when Cas cursed at him again for laughing. He liked Cas when he was tired and grumpy in the morning. Once he was sure Cas had fixed the water temperature, he stepped under the water with him.

They didn’t linger in the shower. The sink-crashing incident had ruined the mood, besides, there was no time to waste. The water made them feel better after the night they’d had, but the water and coffee they drank at breakfast was better. And then, they were straight back on the road.

Conversation was mostly subdued as they started on the twelve hour drive to their destination. They were both still waking up somewhat, and Cas had a hint of a headache. It seemed likely that Dean did too, judging by how low he kept the radio, without bothering to put in one of his tapes. Cas read for the first hour, then he closed his book, and commented on the night before. That was when the conversation began to flow easily, and they were back to their usual selves, laughing and joking and adoring on and on.

Though their destination was still hours away, Dean instructed Cas to start making preparations for their arrival. There was a pen and paper in the glove compartment and data in Cas’s phone plan, so he could look up everything they needed upon their arrival, and for tomorrow. His heart hammered in his chest whenever he thought about the next day would entail.

Dean already knew where to get fake IDs in Vegas, so that’s where they would hit first tomorrow, picking up their “Government Issued” IDs, for once with their real names on them. Or … mostly real names. Of course, Cas needed a fake last name, and Dean (because of the whole angel thing, and because it was his own opinion on Cas) suggested “Godly” as a joke. It was a joke Cas found amusing, so they went with it and had to promise each other they wouldn’t start laughing at it when applying for their marriage license, which they knew in Vegas could be gotten in minutes.

Then it was time to look up actual locations to get married it – typically, they were looking for one of those small little back room type places that didn’t have room for guests and were pretty private. There were few names that made them laugh, but they decided on “Chapel In The Clouds” again as an angelic joke, where heaven was commonly known to be in the clouds.

‘Additional upgrade options including flowers and video,’ Castiel informed Dean about the “Just the Two of Us” package. ‘So Sam will get to see it and therefore can’t be angry that he missed it … sort of.’

‘Let’s do it,’ Dean grinned.

So, that was the one they went with, and Dean made sure they both knew what when it came to budget, he didn’t care how much of his savings he spent. He’d taken his entire locked up box, kept under his bed at all times, which had a few thousand dollars in cash. It was, in a way, his entire life’s savings, and that box had been with him being slowly added to in the trunk of his car since he was a teenager, location changed when bunker found. When he’d started it, it had been for if he ever lost the money for food, which was a worry of the long gone past.

Now, Dean got to use the money for something he cared about more than the past.

Besides, it’s not like he was crazy. Some people spent tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands even, on weddings.

‘We can view our pictures the next day,’ Cas told him.

‘So how long should we stay for, then?’ Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged.

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Y’know, most couples go away on some kind of trip after they get married. But since our wedding technically is a trip, and it’s not a big thing, we’re just eloping … unless, you want …’

‘I think we should go back as soon as possible,’ Castiel decided. ‘If we get married tomorrow, see our pictures on Friday, stay Saturday and Sunday, we can leave Monday, mid-day. Then make the return trip and stay in the same place that we did last night.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Dean nodded approvingly. ‘So all together we’ll have been gone about a week, Sam and probably Arura and the dog will be there when we get back.’

‘So should I book this?’ Castiel asked.

‘Yeah,’ Dean encouraged. ‘And get the private balcony, photographer, video, the whole lot.’

‘You have too email or fax this form …’

‘Then call the venue, get put through to the right people and tell them everything we want. We’ll pay extra if they want us to for the weird booking so close to when we want it.’

Castiel did just that. The next twenty minutes he spent on the phone, being as polite as he possibly could, making his requests calmly and repeatedly apologizing for the non-usual booking, stressing again and again it was a spontaneous decision. Thankfully the person he spoke to seemed to have experienced weirder. And thankfully, they didn’t seem to mind at all that it was two men getting married, for which both Dean and Cas were eternally grateful, and together they breathed out a sigh of relief when they got their answer to that question.

Castiel also booked them a room at their hotel, having asked for a recommendation of accommodation nearby, at first not realizing that the wedding chapel and hotel were one place. The Stratosphere Hotel and Tower was perfect, and they got a check out time of Monday at noon, and Dean muttered to Cas to get the biggest, best suite possible and he didn’t care about the expenses.

‘It’s almost like being one of those rich douchebag guys,’ he whispered, making Cas grin as they spoke quietly while the person on the other end looked through their available rooms. ‘Savings, man. They’re awesome.’

‘You’ll have to start all over after this,’ Castiel reminded him in a low voice.

‘It’s worth it,’ Dean responded.

They were extremely lucky to find the Star Suite was available. It featured a king bed, separate living area and an oversized bathroom with a spa tub and separate shower. Hearing the list of things available within the room almost made them weep with joy. Fuck, that sounded amazing. So they took it and told them they’d be arriving that night.

Once he’d gotten off the phone, Cas looked up the suite in the hotel and looked at pictures of the room and almost cried again. It was possibly the most beautiful room he’d ever seen – it was like … like … the hotel room equivalent of looking at _Dean_. He said that, too, making Dean laugh, and then go quiet as he stared at how awestruck Cas was. Cas, who’d only ever stayed in bad motels, the dusty old bunker, _one_ good hotel, had even been homeless for a while … he just seemed as overjoyed to have a space so large that was purely theirs for as long as they wanted it.

‘Anything else?’ Castiel asked, once he’d gotten over the sheer beauty of the room.

‘I was going to ask you to look up a place to rent suits, but …’ Dean tilted his head, going over the reconsideration he’d gone through once more, and continued, ‘we should just buy something. Y’know, like I said before, just shirts and jackets and pants. We can find a place while we’re there.’

‘I like that idea,’ Castiel nodded, putting his hand on Dean’s knee and rubbing it up and down.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Dean gestured for Cas to pull it out, and Cas obliged.

_You guys there yet? Bring me back a souvenir_

It was, of course, Sam. Castiel smiled at the message, read it out to Dean, and replied as Dean instructed.

_Arriving tonight, back around Tuesday night, got some news when we get back_

Sam’s reply was, _Yeah we have news too_

‘Doubt it’s better than ours,’ Dean muttered, chuckling.

‘You know what I’ve just realized?’ Castiel thought suddenly, looking at Dean with his eyebrows raised.

‘What?’ Dean asked.

‘At this rate, with all of the things we’ve been doing and now with this whole getting married thing, we’ll never finish Grey’s Anatomy in time for the new season.’

Dean could tell he was joking, pretending to be extremely serious, before he even looked at him. He sighed dramatically, playing along as usual.

‘We’ll just have to find time during our busy days of doing … whatever married people do … in the hotel to hook my computer up to that TV and put it to good use. That couch sure looks like a good place to sit endlessly watching a show about sexy doctors for hours at a time, huh?’

‘Well, I was actually thinking of something more fun we could do on the couch,’ Castiel commented so casually that it almost made Dean blush, ‘but okay.’

‘Or that,’ Dean interrupted quickly. ‘It wont be _that_ hard to tell you and catch you up before season twelve stars as long as you don’t mind spoilers, if we don’t finish watching it by then … but until Monday, we can, y’know, stay in, maybe go out … see the sites … not like, go to weird burlesque shows or spend hours in the casinos wasting time … unless you’re into that …’

‘Yeah, sure, whatever,’ Castiel grinned lazily, smirking at how flustered Dean seemed to be all of a sudden, tripping over his words.

‘We should stop here,’ Dean decided, nodding at a rest stop they were approaching. ‘Grab some water, maybe some chips, stretch our legs … you wanna drive for a while after?’

‘Me?’ Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘Sure, but why?’

‘I like watching you do stuff,’ Dean shrugged, pulling into the rest stop. ‘I want to stare at you for a while. Look at those pictures some more, look up things we can do when we get to Vegas, check online and see where it’s fastest to get a marriage license. That kind of thing.’

‘Alright, I’ll drive,’ Cas nodded. ‘I’d like to drive this car. I haven’t since you first taught me how.’

Dean had taught Cas to drive once, back when Cas was human the first time, during a little trip to visit him. There had been many of those trips that Sam knew nothing about.

‘Exactly, and I taught you, so I know you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.’

Castiel laughed, but didn’t poke fun at Dean or say “it’s just a car” like he’d heard Sam do a few times.

‘I’ll treat her like she’s my own,’ Castiel promised.

‘Great,’ Dean grinned. ‘Fill up the tank with around twenty dollars worth of gas for me? I’ll go in and pay for that and grab some snacks for the road. We can take a five minute break after, walk around a little, hit the bathrooms, eat some sandwiches because it can be fucking hard to eat those things while driving, trust me.’

‘I trust you,’ Castiel laughed, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. ‘Go inside. I’ll put in the gas.’

After he put in the gas, Cas got into the car and pulled away from the pumps, into parking to wait for Dean, who returned a few minutes later with a bag full of road snacks, two coffees and two subs.

‘Better than boring old regular sandwiches,’ Dean grinned, handing Cas his as Cas waited, leaning against the driver’s side of the Impala. ‘Not exactly Subway quality, but decent.’

‘Thanks,’ Cas replied, already opening his up. He moved out of the way so Dean could dump the bag of snacks in the car and took the coffees from him, putting them on the roof of it. ‘I like being on the road with you, you know. It’s fun. And it gives me a glimpse into the life you and Sam grew up with.’

‘No,’ Dean corrected him, shaking his head. ‘This is better. Cheap motels, destination monster-ville every time, so few stops along the way that our legs were stiff and aching by the time we got to where we were supposed to be? That sucked, man. It wasn’t much better when we grew up and it was just me and Sam. But driving places I really want to be with you by my side … I could do it pretty much forever if I have to.’

Castiel took a moment to take it in as he took a bite of his sub. It was good, and slightly spicy, and the fact that Dean remembered he liked spicy stuff (not that he ever doubted his memory) made him need to turn his head so Dean wouldn’t see his stupid smile.

‘I was hoping we wouldn’t _have_ to do it forever,’ Castiel informed him, trying to keep it cool. ‘On trips like this it’s enjoyable. Or if we have to save the world again and drive all over the country doing who knows what … even on cases, regular ones like ghosts and vampires and so on, but besides that I feel like it would be nice to just … have somewhere, like the bunker, which is a thing, which we have. And I like having that security for once in my life. Not just a secure person, which has always been you, but a place I can really call my own. You know what I mean?’

‘I know _exactly_ what you mean,’ Dean assured him, wiping some sauce from the corner of Cas’s mouth and licking it off of his thumb before taking another bite out of his own sub, then a drink of his coffee. ‘Neither of us ever had that, you and me. The bunker is the only thing I’ve had too. And with you in it, it feels … better. It’s like I’m finding it all over again.’

The two of them paused. They both had both hands busy, so they couldn’t join hands like they usually would at this point in the conversation, but Dean nudged his leg against Cas’s briefly, almost like it was accidentally, as he shuffled from foot to foot.

‘We don’t have to stay there forever, y’know,’ Dean put out there quickly, taking a drink right afterwards to give him something to do while he waited for Cas’s reaction.

Castiel lowered his sub and turned towards Dean with a curious expression.

‘You mean … move out?’

Dean shrugged, treading carefully.

‘Maybe. We have the bedroom furniture that could sort of … go anywhere with we decided to. And we did talk about that thing with the house and the dog and … then there’s Sam and Aroura, and we don’t know what they’re planning … I mean it’s just a maybe, y’know? It depends on the situation that comes up or … but if you don’t want, I mean we could stay, or we could … whatever –’  

‘Dean,’ Castiel interrupted, pushing Dean’s hand away from his mouth as he raised his sub towards it. He kissed him, swift and precise, grinning at him when he pulled back. ‘I don’t understand why you keep getting tongue tied whenever you make some kind of suggestion. I’ll do whatever you want to do in whatever situation that arises. ‘We can stay. We can go. I’ll do _anything_ as long as I get to do it with you.’

Dean looked down, unsure if he’d be able to keep his eyes on Cas’s without grabbing him and clinging to him for the next several hours or days or decades. When he finally looked back up, Cas was watching him, eyebrows raised, chewing slowly. Dean took a drink, steadying his slightly shaky hand, swallowed and smiled with an accompanying laugh.

‘Can we even go one day without getting into one of these deep meaningful conversation type things?’ he asked, his shoulders shaking with his laughter now.

Cas swallowed what he was chewing and joined in that laughter.

‘I doubt it,’ he admitted, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky as he thought on it and willed his laughter to die down. ‘But who needs boring, normal conversations when you could be us?’

‘Exactly,’ Dean nodded in agreement.

More laughter followed. It came every few chews, every few sips, every few swallows in short bursts and was always mutual. They must have looked like two idiots, but they didn’t care. They didn’t notice any other drivers as they came and went. They were lost in a world containing only the two of them.

They left shortly after finishing, Cas driving as Dean had asked of him. They listened to the radio as they went and Dean busied himself on his phone like he’d said he might do, then he just watched Cas for a while. Damn, he looked good in that driver’s seat, and in another one of Dean’s shirts, too. It was a short sleeved t-shirt and he was sitting on a sweater of his own he’d worn over it, but removed because the heat was on in the car. He seemed to be getting a liking for t-shirts and buttoned up plaid shirts, over his sweaters and pullovers and hoodies. Maybe they could hit up some stores while in Vegas. Not that Dean minded Cas wearing his stuff. At all. Anything he had, he’d share with Cas. His clothes, his good moments, his bad moments, his life and even his … the most personal thing he could share with him, his … his … _car_.

They traded off the next time they stopped at a rest stop a few hours later, and Dean drove the last lengths of their journey. The blinking lights as they arrived at their final destination had Cas glued to the window the whole way to the hotel. Dean, too, was suddenly seeing it all with a newfound beauty it had never had before. The buildings seemed to go beyond the stars that twinkled with grace above them, the busy streets swarming with a thousand million lights in the form of cars and people alike.

Their hotel was the tallest building around, even excluding the tower. They parked in the parking lot and grabbed their things from the back seat. Walking up to the endlessly high building with bags over their shoulders and hands joined between them, the night air seemed to have a new smell to it, something neither one of them recognized. It was like the start of something new.

They were well welcomed warmly in spacious, vaguely intimidating and near empty lobby. There were two or three people milling around, but besides that it was deserted. They got their room key and directions to the room in good time and made their way through the hotel. Neither one of them had ever visited a place even resembling this one before and it was an oddly … grown up feeling to do so, despite one of them being a near middle-aged adult and the other a multi-millennia old angel. And, for once, in a place like this, they didn’t feel like outsides.

The hallways were deserted and had their own peculiar scent. Their footsteps on the circular designed carpet made no sound, and it almost felt like they were in an extremely large and rich library or even a weird carpeted hospital.  

They finally reached their room. Or … their … decently sized studio-apartment-type suite. Dean dropped his bag right inside the door as soon as the lights were on, leaving it to Cas to close the door behind them. The entrance was marble. Dean wandered in and Cas followed him, bringing Dean’s bag with him, and he dropped them by the end of the bed when they reached it. Dean reached out a hand and ran it over the sheets.

‘Holy shit,’ he whispered.

They walked around the room in a sort of zombie-like state, to the dining area by the small window to the far side of the bed, to the red chairs by the big window, to the couch in front of the part-wall which had a television on it. And then they made their way to the bathroom.

‘ _Fuck!_ ’ Castiel exclaimed, his hand automatically jumping to cover his mouth. Everything was so … shiny.

‘I’m not a bath person,’ Dean said slowly, ‘but I wanna order room service and eat it in there with you. For the _rest_ of my _life._ Holy fucking _shit_.’

‘I’ll … look for the room service menus,’ Castiel managed to get out, backing out of the bathroom with wide eyes.

Yeah, getting married was definitely the best decision they had ever made.


	36. Impala and Trenchcoat

Bath bubbles caused an interesting sensation. 

Eating while naked and wet and soapy with bubbles floating around you and sliding against you was an interesting sensation too.

And trying to balance plates of food on the edge of the tub without dropping it in was … well, that was just plain fucking hard.

Might have been easier if Cas would stop fucking brushing every part of his body that could reach across the tub against Dean’s dick completely fucking subtly without even acknowledging he was doing it, but that fucker _knew_ he was doing it, and Dean knew that Cas knew that Dean knew exactly what he was fucking doing.

Dean was very fucking glad when Cas finally finished his food having eaten painfully slowly where Dean sped up the second he felt that first brush. Dean practically tore Cas’s plate out of his hands once it was cleared and put it by the sink with his own.

‘Stop it, he demanded.

‘Stop what?’ Castiel asked, always playing it innocent although his smirk told otherwise.

‘Quit messing with my dick!’ Dean snapped, feeling Cas brush up against it.

‘In that case, I’m not quite sure of what I’m here for,’ Castiel frowned, wrapping his arms around his knees to stop his legs sliding forward and kicking Dean. ‘Maybe I should just go –’

Castiel made to move, one hand on the edge of the tub as if he were about to push himself up; Dean lunged forward and grabbed hold of both of his wrists, making Cas’s smirk go from naughty to wicked.

‘If _that’s_ how you want it …’

Cas pulled his wrists free and made to move again, onto his knees rather than standing up. The tub was hard under them, but he didn’t care, scooting forward to land between Dean’s legs while Dean pulled himself into a better sitting position.

‘Much better,’ Dean grinned, hands on Cas’s shoulders and using the slickness of the water to let them slide off straight away, down his arms, past them, and onto his thighs.

‘You think?’ Castiel smirked, one hand on Dan’s shoulder and the other reaching down into the water and grabbing hold of the first thing he found. ‘Better?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Dean breathed, ‘much better.’

Castiel grinned an evil grin, slowly stroking Dean up and down under the water. His other hand on Dean’s shoulder slid down over Dean’s chest, making sure it slid just right so his fingers traced over one of his nipples, continuing sliding down to Dean’s stomach so he could feel the muscles there tighten and hitch when he used his other hand to rub his thumb over the underside of the head of his dick a few times. Then he removed his hand from his stomach and put it back on his shoulder, for balance and leverage now, as he leaned downwards how hoping he wouldn’t slip and managed to get an angle where he could get his own dick in the same hand as Dean’s was in and start jerking them together, slowly at first, but gradually speeding up until he was almost certain that if he went a second longer he’d pass the point of no return.

He let go them both and could practically feel Dean’s whimper.

‘This could go horribly,’ Castiel muttered, ‘but I’m going to try something.’

And then he took a breath and put his face in the water. Dean, eager to help, pushed his hips upwards, and then the warm, moist feeling around him wasn’t just the water.

Cas had great breath control, coming up when needed but diving right back in again straight away. Dean tried to keep his own breath steady; he didn’t want to risk coming too soon. They had, unconsciously, got more planned. There were towels unfolded on the floor and some folded up on the toilet seat and the lube had made it from their bag to the counter next to the sink … for some reason … no reason in particular, it just … looked good there.

Dean was painfully hard now, and he could feel pressure right in the pit of his stomach, almost like a burn, a need, so next time Cas came up for air he pulled him towards him and kissed him roughly. Cas’s hands grabbed at his back an them used his shoulders to push himself up, away from Dean, and he stepped, dripping, out of the tub and onto the towels on the floor. Dean stood up, Castiel helping him follow him out, and then they were together again, wet and slippery and clinging to each other. Dean was rubbing himself against Cas’s hip bone, and there was no way there were going to get dried up and make their way to the bedroom like civilised people.

They crashed to the floor, Cas grabbing the lube as he went down, Dean cushioning his blow. As soon as he landed it was as if his lips landed directly on Dean’s neck, kissing along his throat and down to his chest, sucking on the skin around his nipples like it was all he needed in life, dragging his tongue over each one as if the act would grant him life eternal, feeling Dean writhe and claw at his sides where he was likely to leave bruises.

The bruises would heal. On his sides, on his knees, wherever he got them.

He pressed a dry finger up against Dean’s waiting hole and Dean groaned as he dragged it around and took it away.

‘Cas,’ Dean moaned. ‘Cas, please.’

Castiel repeated the action, this time pressing the tip of his finger in dry, feeling the tightness of just small portion of the way.

Dean looked as though he was about to cry.

‘ _Please_ ,’ he begged, grabbing Cas’s arm, the other grabbing and squeezing Cas’s dick which did more than begging ever would.

Cas didn’t think he’d ever lubed up his fingers and got them inside Dean so fast. The satisfied little yelp Dean made at the sudden presence of Cas’s index finger in him only egged Cas on, running his finger in a circle around the inside. He felt Dean’s reaction to him finding his prostate before he felt it under his finger tip, and pressed down on it, rubbing side to side marvelling in the joy the noises Dean made brought him, staring at the beauty of the screwed up eyes, the half open mouth, the quivering jaw. The chest that rose up and down with every laboured pant.

Another finger in and he felt Dean clench, squeezing around him, pushing Cas’s fingers together as he tried to force them apart, scissoring Dean wide while pumping them in slowly and as deeply as possible, almost right up to the knuckle. It felt like Dean was trying to force him in deeper with his clenching and bucking his hips so, cruelly, slowly, he pulled out while being sucked in and saw Dean relax under him.

Dean’s hand, that was still on Cas’s dick, palmed at the head, causing Cas to desperately grab Dean’s hand, saturate it in lubrication and put the hand back in place and Dean did the rest, pumping it up and down so it was covered, base to tip.

Castiel pushed his hand away, positioned himself perfectly between Dean’s gloriously open and inviting legs, pressing right up against the hole and then in; just the head. Dean’s mouth fell open, whatever sound he was going to make caught in his throat, this time making it Cas’s turn to groan as he pulled back out. He waited a moment and pushed back in again, deeper this time and gradually deeper and deeper with each pump, until he was buried in Dean and pulling out again, the warmth and the tightness and the pressure he felt around him making it hard to stay up right, driving him insane to go in and out, again and again, picking up speed as he chased the feeling he craved, his balls slapping against Dean’s ass and his mouth leaving a trail of dark purple marks along Dean’s collarbone.

Dean wrapped his legs around Cas’s lower body, his ankles locked together, wishing he could force Cas inside so deep it tore him apart. Wishing he didn’t have to pull out. Thanking all that was holy that he did have to, so he could push back in roughly, slickly, gloriously, hitting and sliding against the right spot over and over again.

Dean somehow in his blissful high managed to register that the lube was in reach and as an idea struck him he grabbed it, covering his index finger before reaching around and pressing it into Cas’s hole without moving it, so that every time Cas moved forward Dean’s finger slid some of the way out, and when he moved back it slid back in, moving in perfect synchronization, Dean wondering if Cas’s walls crushing Dean’s finger was anything compared to what he must have been doing to Cas down there. Probably didn’t even come close, and he liked that.

Castiel came first, inside Dean, and rode it out, slowing down like an engine powering down, reaching for Dean’s dick as he did and pumping it, falling back from his knees onto his ass. Dean’s legs were jelly, but he forced his way onto his knees, scooting up along Cas’s body as Cas lay back, letting Cas jerk him over his chest. When he came, he spurted on Cas’s chest and neck and the lower half of his face and he even saw a speck of it on his eyebrow. Castiel licked his lips like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted and kept his hand moving until Dean was all tapped out and began to soften.

Dean lowered himself forward, letting his legs collapse, his head falling into a resting position on Cas’s chest. He didn’t care that his cheek was now sticky with his own come. He kissed Cas’s chest, getting it on his lips too, and he licked them clean, wanting to know the appeal and why Cas had seemed to find the stuff so intoxicating.

They stayed still for some time. It had been a long day of driving and they were both fighting sleep. Castiel trailed his fingers up and down Dean’s spine, occasionally stopping to make some circular motions. Dean let out a sigh against him and Castiel seriously contemplated just letting himself fall asleep like this, but then he remembered the floor was hard and cold and they were both covered in sticky-drying white goo.  

‘Dean,’ Castiel mumbled, increasing the relaxing spine-trailing to a gentle run of encouragement. ‘Come on. We need to clean this up.’

Dean groaned.

‘Do I have to?’ he asked, as if it were the most awful sounding thing in the world.

Castiel chuckled.

‘No,’ he decided. ‘You just have to sit still and _I’ll_ clean everything up.’

‘Deal,’ Dean sighed, pushing himself up. He really had gotten very tired very fast and wandered over to the toilet, sitting on the closed lid once he’d moved the towels and wincing slightly. Cas had really done him good. He tried to avoid moving too much as he sat, elbow on knee, forehead in palm. He didn’t watch Cas, but heard him moving around.

Castiel, first of all, picked up the lube and put it back on the counter by the sink, and then he drained the tub. He picked up one of the towels from the floor and dampened it in the decreasing level of water and used it to wipe off his chest and face. He was vaguely impressed when he saw the spot of white above his eyebrow.

Next, he used the other side of the same towel to do Dean, tilting his head up with a finger under his chin. He tossed the towel onto the ground behind him and kissed Dean’s cheek, right where he’d cleaned it and gathered up the rest of the towels they’d been on and shoved them into the corner of the room. One of them could put them in a laundry pile or something in the morning, or whatever the hotel did for used towels.

Luckily enough, he didn’t need to use another towel, since he and Dean had air dried and the slick sheen of sweat they’d developed while air drying had gone too while they lay unmoving. He stopped in front of the sink to wash his hands, a must-do if you’ve just had your fingers all the way into a man’s ass, and looked into the mirror, then at Dean. He studied Dean, and then his reflections, and it was one of those moments where it really hit him and he wondered how his life had become this when so recently it had been something else completely. It just seemed to travel farther and farther from how things used to be, and instead of not understanding it like the old, unaware Cas would have, he wished it would continue moving away and never stop. Change was a good thing. Change was necessary.

He tore his eyes away from his tired face and continued cleaning up, using some toilet tissue to get rid of extra slickness and lube that still remained around his dick. He tossed it into the toilet which Dean had vacated as he was now standing, cleaning off his ass the same way Cas had just cleaned off his dick, occasionally wincing which gave Castiel a satisfied smirk, despite not liking seeing Dean in any kind of pain.

Two men, in a bathroom, cleaning themselves off as casually as if they were just standing in a kitchen doing dishes together. Existing together without a care, without shame or embarrassment, everything open and all the cards laid own on the table in even rows. A former impossibility come to life.

They continued existing together. Cas went to get their bathroom stuff like toothbrushes and shaving things and put them on the counter. He took the plates out of the bathroom and brought them over to the table by the small window. He returned to the bathroom and started to brush his teeth, Dean joining him at the sink moments later to wash his hands, once he was done his own cleanup and anything else he’d needed to do. They didn’t need to talk, they didn’t need to hide, not for anything. Their openness seemed now like a severe contrast to the rest of the years of their lives, hiding as much as they could from each other.

Castiel was the first to leave for bed, while Dean was still brushing his teeth. He didn’t bother with putting anything on, he slipped beneath the covers which was one of the most satisfactory feelings there was. They felt clean, smooth and cool against his skin which was still flushed and warm and it was a struggle to stay awake to wait for Dean to join him, who, after plugging in his phone next to them and setting an alarm, settled into his arms wordlessly.

They didn’t talk at all before they fell asleep.

Castiel was the first to be woken by the alarm and noticed Dean was sprawled out with his limbs in a certain way that made him look like a princess that had fallen from a tower, but the illusion was ruined when Dean jerked awake a moment later.

‘Hey,’ Castiel greeted Dean when he looked at him after shutting off the alarm.

‘Hey,’ Dean grinned, looking giddy without a single sign of morning grogginess. ‘Happy wedding day.’

‘You too,’ Castiel grinned right back, giving Dean a kiss so sweet that if it had had a real sugary taste it would have made his tongue curl.

‘No time for laying around in bed,’ Dean decided at once, more alert than he usually was all day, ‘we’ve got a wedding license to obtain and some fancy clothes to buy. So let’s go. Shower. Now.’

Castiel grinned at him and kicked off the covers. They joined hands on their way to the bathroom, more ready to start this day than any other.

As soon as Dean was done in the bathroom, he ordered room service for breakfast, because literally why the hell not. Dean hadn’t even had time to get dressed before it arrived, instead attempting to straighten up the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, which he quickly exchanged for his grey robe from home which he’d taken with him to accept the food and bring it in.

Castiel left the bathroom towel drying his hair but otherwise still completely naked when Dean was halfway done getting dressed and was about to pull on a t-shirt.

‘I like having the bathroom and bedroom attached to each other,’ Dean commented, openly looking Cas up and down as he walked towards their luggage on a clothes hunt. ‘The view is really something.’

Castiel laughed as he bent, hauling one bag up onto the bed and pulling out things at random. He didn’t feel like being fussy about what he wore today, so threw on the black jeans and the blue tie-dye hoodie without a care and wandered over to the table as soon as he spied the food, still pulling up one sock as he did. He lifted the lid on one of the trays and surveyed the food.

‘I didn’t know what you wanted,’ Dean told him, going over to join him, ‘but the pancakes looked good on the menu so I got some for us both and a pot of coffee.’

‘Excellent,’ Castiel decided, already stabbing his fork into a piece pancake, dipping it in the side of golden syrup and shoving it into his mouth.

‘Dude, you ever heard of waiting until everyone’s seated before you start?’ Dean laughed, straightening his seat and making to pour them both coffee.

‘Courtesy is for people who didn’t burn off their dinner as soon as they consumed it,’ Castiel muttered as soon as he’d swallowed, quickly moving on to his next bite.

‘Okay,’ Dean agreed, ‘you make a good point.’

The table being right by the window gave them the opportunity to look out over Las Vegas as they ate. It was a clear morning and now that late January would soon morph into the early signs of a February spring, the weather was beginning to brighten.

‘So the place I looked up on the drive yesterday,’ Dean informed Cas as they ate at a steady pace, ‘is twenty minutes away. We get the license, then we have the day free until four. That’s when our appointment is.’

‘Married at four,’ Castiel noted, without looking up from his food. ‘Got it.’

‘And I got us a reservation for an early evening meal at the restaurant here at four thirty.’

Castiel looked up, his eyebrows raised.

‘When did you do that?’

‘While you were in the bathroom at our second rest stop yesterday.’

A slow smile spread out across Cas’s face.

‘You’re amazing, you know that?’

Dean shrugged, trying to look modest despite his reply being the opposite of that.

‘Yeah, kinda.’

‘So what do we do until four?’ Castiel asked, back to giving his pancakes his almost undivided attention.

‘Well, buy our shit to married in for one,’ Dean told him, ‘then I figured we could park somewhere and walk around a little. Check out some shops.’

‘Clothes shops?’ Castiel suggested. ‘I’m starting to be over the whole sweater thing. It was nice around Christmas, but now I prefer button-up type shirts. A lot of the reasoning behind that is because of how you look at me when I wear them. And so I can unbutton some of the buttons like you advised me a few years ago and watch you almost start drooling like I recall you seemed to almost do then.’

‘Did not,’ Dean muttered defensively. ‘But yeah, okay. We can do that. You might need a jacket or something too though – it gets kinda cold, even in spring.’

‘Okay,’ Cas replied. ‘I’d also like to get some new underwear that doesn’t roll up to the tops of my thighs and look like panties. It gets uncomfortable.’

‘Poor you,’ Dean said with false sympathy. ‘Poor you and your super-thick thighs.’

‘If you make fun of me again I won’t suggest we have lunch afterwards and I’ll let you starve, this being the first and last thing you eat today before the reservations you made at the restaurant.’

‘Okay. I’ll stop.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Just one more question.’

‘Go ahead.

‘Would you rather be marrying the pancakes?’

Castiel stopped eating and put his fork down. Dean raised his eyebrows, considering that Cas really seemed to like those pancakes and the fact that he had the ability to tear himself away from them was surprising. It was even more surprising when he stood up, walked around the table, got on his knees on front of Dean, pulled Dean’s face down to his level and kissed him.

So it was a no, then.

‘Dean, I’m sorry,’ Castiel said quietly, ‘but yes.’

Cas had gotten back to his feet by the time Dean registered what he’d said an flung out an arm to grab his wrist and pull him back so that he half-fell onto Dean’s lap.

‘How dare you,’ Dean stated.

‘They taste really good.’

‘And I don’t?’

Castiel checked, kissing him.

‘You taste like pancakes.’

‘Get off of me,’ Dean grumbled, completely falsely of course, and shoved Cas away from him.

Laughing, Castiel returned to his seat and his food.

They headed downstairs after breakfast, the lobby busier than it had been last night. Dean briefly approached the front desk, someone different there to last night, and inquired about the cleaning services, thinking of the growing dish and towel pile, and he was informed that someone would be sent up to their room within the next hour or two to clean up and replace the towels and make the beds. Dean didn’t know why she said beds, assuming the sofa bed had been used.

‘Do we not seem … together enough?’ Dean asked Cas after telling him of the little plural incident.

‘Maybe it’s because we’re both men,’ Castiel presumed. ‘But there’s lube on the sink in the bathroom. I think the cleaner will get the hint, at least.’

‘The laundry people will probably figure it out too, unless they presume it’s just one lonely guy using those towels,’ Dean pointed out.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Dried jizz.’

‘The towels are white.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Dean muttered. ‘Damn it. We need to do something gay.’

‘ _What_?’

‘Kiss me.’

‘Dean, her saying “beds” is not a big deal.’

‘Kiss. Me.’

‘Will it shut you up?’

‘Yes.’

Castiel stopped, grabbed Dean’s face, kissed him in one harsh movement and pushed him away, continuing walking in that same movement. Dean caught up the two steps he was behind and put his arms around one of Cas’s, clinging to his side as they walked.

‘That’ll teach ’em.’

‘You’re very proud of your relationship, aren’t you?’

‘Prouder than I’ve been about anything else.’

Castiel smiled, using his free arm to pull himself _even closer_ to Dean as he clung to his arm and they left the building.

‘Me too,’ he said quietly.

They stayed joined like that until they found the car in the parking lot – it was a difficult job, the place was crowded and the two of them seemed to have different recollections of where they had parked within the place. But luckily they found it and climbed in, nerve endings tingling with excitement.

‘Ready to get a marriage license?’

‘No, Dean, I’m backing out.’

‘Sarcastic fucker,’ Dean muttered, grinning, and pulled out of their parking space.

And then they were on the road to getting a marriage license. Their spur of the moment decision the other day was about to become a reality.

Getting a license proved to be almost alarmingly easy. All they had to do was fill out some forms, wait a few minutes and _bam_. There it was. All theirs for the using. And they were getting married at four. Literally married. Like, husband and husband married.

‘Yes Dean, you’ve said that multiple times now,’ Castiel replied with a laugh as Dean voiced that thought on the way back.

‘Dude, we need rings,’ Dean realized suddenly.

‘Oh yeah,’ Castiel realized with him. ‘People wear wedding rings, don’t they?’

‘I’m sure there’s a store somewhere,’ Dean said confidently. ‘We can find something while we’re shopping.’

‘Something simple,’ Castiel warned. ‘I don’t want you to spend too much money on this.’

‘Oh, here we go,’ Dean joked, ‘not even married and already on my ass about money. Calm down, we’ll just get some plain gold bands or something. Nothing twenty four carrot. Happy?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel smiled, satisfied. ‘And maybe … get them engraved?’

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded. ‘Let’s do that.’

They drove back to the hotel and parked there, and then ventured out into the great unknown on foot. Well, only a little unknown for Dean who’d never been in this _specific_ place before, but had been to Vegas before. He’d never been _shopping_ in Vegas, though, so it was gonna be a hunt to find somewhere that sold what they were looking for. They did however find a jewelry store relatively quickly, and picked out two plain rings, left their messages to be engraved into them with the people there and said they’d pick them up after lunch.

It was a busy, cool day with a slight wind that blew at them as they walked the busy streets. They were hand in hand – not because they had anything to prove like back at the hotel, but because it was habit, and they enjoyed it and it made them feel more connected to each other. It also kept them together throughout the hustle and bustle of people coming at them from all directions, trying to get here and trying to get there.

They entered the first store they saw with suits in the window. It was weird, their first time shopping for clothes _together_ , but not their first time shopping together. The last time it had just been for Cas. Now it was for the two of them, and it was a completely different category of clothing. 

It was strangely difficult to choose between all the similar looking pants and jackets and shirts. They ended up with similar outfits, both with sleek black pants, casual shirts and jackets with buttons on the wrists, but Cas’s shirt was light blue where Dean’s was white, and Cas’s jacket was a darker blue while Dean’s was black. They approved of each others’ final choices, helping each other decide the entire time.

They left the shop happy, bag swinging from Dean’s free hand, as they headed out in search of another place that sold casual clothing, which again could be found easily enough. Castiel didn’t bother trying on things here like last time, he knew what size to get, so he picked out anything he thought looked good and anything he saw Dean eyeing up. It mostly included plaid shirts and some plain casual button ups, and a few t-shirts, some plain and some with designs on them. Seeing what Castiel picked out made Dean think of the kind of things he’d picked out last shopping trip and he realized just how much Cas had changed and learned about his own opinions on things that extended past “this looks nice” in the time they’d been together.

He tried out multiple kinds of jackets, too, but ultimately it came down to a denim vs leather, which also meant what he liked vs what gave Dean what looked like a heart attack. He decided to get both the plain, dark blue denim jacket and the well-fitting black leather one, at Dean’s suggestion.

When it came to buying the new underwear he wanted due to comfort, he tried those on. He decided to go with the boxer brief style he’d been wearing, but he tried a couple of bigger sizes in the hopes they would be looser on his legs and not roll upwards as soon as he put pants on. That seemed to work, with the legs fitting well and the rest being slightly too loose but not fall-down level loose.

And then they were finished with shopping and on a hunt for a lunch venue.

They found a diner that served 50s style food and milkshakes and Cas liked the look of it so much that they _had_ to eat there. It was very close to their hotel too, so convenient if they ever wanted to go back to it, which judging by the menu, they would.

It was called Roxy’s Diner.

The ordered Roxy’s Platter and they also got Cheese Fries, two different starters, but they’d be good for a whole lunch. They were sharing both of them, both of them seeming mouth wateringly delicious on the menu. As their drinks, they ordered from the “Shakes and Malts” which was part of the “From The Fountain” section of the menu, ordering a hot fudge and an Oreo Cookie, again both of them to share.

‘I want to order the whole menu,’ Castiel declared, practically drooling over it.

‘I want to order the whole menu every day for every meal for the rest of my life,’ Dean added to his statement. ‘This is what I need to take away from Vegas. I need to leave here married to you, with a lifetime’s supply of everything on the menu.’

‘Which is your priority?’ Castiel asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

‘Well, it’s been a few hours since breakfast and shopping can take a lot out of you but … still you.’

Castiel blushed, looking away, but having to look back up soon as they waitress arrived and they placed the orders they’d decided on.

Cas found himself questioning Dean’s priorities when he saw how much Dean was enjoying the food when it came. Hell, he found himself questioning his own. And the drinks … a sip from one, a sip from the other, a sip from both straws at the same time …

He was dead and this was heaven, a better heaven than the one he’d ever experienced. They’d been holding out on him, the bastards.

But then he remembered Dean was there, and Dean couldn’t be dead because there was no world without Dean in it, so this must not be heaven after all.

This was reality, and he had Dean, and Dean was his, and they were eating this fucking godly meal together and they were living for it.

And straight afterwards … they were going to pick up their wedding rings. Because they were getting married. This was their last meal as two unmarried men. The next time they ate it would be in a revolving restaurant at the top of the world, after they got married in the clouds.

Just like they’d always been meant to.

When God had said his plans for everything ended with the whole Darkness thing or whatever it was he’d said along those lines, he must have been lying.

 _This_ is where his plan had ended, it had been destined since a time before the world even existed. Dean, Castiel, together.

They were almost there.

Not long left now.

Cas knew they were in public and public displays of affection were generally not the best way to go, but he couldn’t help putting down his fork, waiting for Dean to put down his, then standing and leaning across the table and kissing Dean. He tasted like mozzarella and Oreos.

‘What was that for?’ Dean asked.

‘Do I need a reason?’ Castiel asked.

‘Suppose not,’ Dean grinned. ‘By the way, you’ve got food on your chin.’

Castiel rolled his eyes and wiped his chin with a napkin. He didn’t care about the food. All he cared about was gazing across at Dean and there being no end to his presence.

He wanted to stay with him, to be with him, for the rest of his human life. He wanted to fall asleep with Dean and wake up with Dean and share his food with Dean. He wanted to drive with Dean and sit inside doing nothing all day with Dean and hunt with Dean and not hunt with Dean. He wanted to live with Dean and do everything humans did with Dean, until they were old and all they could do was sit in matching rocking chairs, side by side and had in hand, so old that they were just grateful to see the sun rise another day, because for all he knew they wouldn’t live to see the next dawn.

He wanted to run with Dean and walk with Dean and get covered in blood and dirt with Dean if that’s what they ended up doing, and he wanted to sit down and relax with Dean and wipe away the blood and dirt and sit and watch some TV, because that’s just what they did.

He _needed_ Dean.

And he could tell, just by looking at the way Dean was looking at him, that Dean needed him too.

Yeah, he’d heard Dean say it a thousand times and for five hundred of them he’d struggled to believe it.

But he could see it now.

He could _feel_ it now.

And everything was different.

He nudged Dean’s foot under the table with his own, and he knew before Dean even moved that he’d nudge him back.

He finally _believed_.

And it was about damn time.

He could see Dean having the same realization across from him, every time they looked at each other, it was there.

Last meal.

Last time they would doubt anything, ever again.

They were reluctant to leave the diner when lunch was over, almost tempted to get seconds of what they’d had, or try out something else. But they had rings to pick up, with inscriptions in them, and now those inscriptions seemed to mean more than ever. The rings fit perfectly when tested and they fit perfectly in the ring box too, a box which was secure in Dean’s pocket as they walked back to the hotel, arms and bags swinging.

By the time they got back to their room it was 2:30pm, with only an hour and a half left until they were to be married. There wasn’t much to be done between the time they got back and the time they were to leave for their private balcony, other than pulling out all of Cas’s new clothes, Cas trying on all of the shirts he hadn’t tried on in store, and changing into a pair of his new and better fitting underwear, leading to several minutes of procrastination where Castiel had yet to put his jeans back on and Dean stood with his hands on his thighs, their faces practically melded together, until Castiel pulled back and insisted they don’t get distracted.

‘Oh, come on,’ Dean whined, as Cas pulled his jeans back on.

‘What would it say about us if we showed up late to our own wedding ceremony because we were having sex?’ Castiel demanded.

‘That we’re awesome?’ Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head, looking away, trying not to laugh.

‘We can have sex later,’ Castiel promised him, dodging him as he reached out and heading back to the clothes bag, to try on both of his jackets. ‘After we get back from dinner.’

‘Burn calories.’

‘Exactly.

Dean sighed, folding his arms like a sulky child, but accepted his fate. Castiel looked in the mirror at the denim jacket and turned back to Dean.

‘Does this look better over this shirt than it did over the hoodie I was wearing?’

‘Definitely,’ Dean nodded approvingly, taking a few steps towards Cas and slipping his hands under the sides of the jacket, onto Cas. ‘It’d look better without a shirt. Or pants.’

Castiel looked down, as if shy, then back up. He allowed Dean to lean in and kiss him again, slid his hands up Dean’s chest, under Dean’s shirt …

And pushed away.

‘Later,’ he insisted.

‘But we have an hour,’ Dean pleaded.

‘Enough time to watch one episode of Grey’s Anatomy,’ Castiel grinned. ‘Besides, I don’t know why you seem so desperate. Don’t you remember last night?’

‘I can’t stop thinking about it,’ Dean explained, ‘that’s why I’m so desperate.’

‘But last night was our last time before us being married,’ Castiel stressed, taking hold of both of Dean’s hands, holding them in front of him and squeezing. ‘It was the perfect way to end our last day of not being married.’

Dean let the words wash over him and they started to make sense as they sunk in.

‘Alright,’ he decided, ‘Grey’s Anatomy it is.’

Cas shrugged off his jacket and tossed it lightly onto the bed while Dean set up his laptop, getting up Netflix once it was turned on. Castiel switched on the TV and looked through it, having seen Dean connect his laptop to the TV many times before, and then they were off, sitting on the couch, casually watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy before marriage at four.

Dean put his feet up on the couch and put his arms around Cas’s waist, head in his shoulder, just needing to be close to him. Castiel’s hand rested on the top of his back, stretching across the back of the couch around him. He kissed the top of his head briefly and felt Dean’s cheek against his upper chest shift, so he knew he was smiling without even having to look down.

It was like they were already married, like they’d been married for years, even though the years they’d spent avoiding contact, staring intensely, casually touching shoulders and suffering, apart, had shaped them into what they were now.

They were hyper-aware of their surroundings as the show played to start, but by halfway it was as if they were in any room in the bunker just watching the scenes play out before them from their bed or the moldy old couch in the living room.

They were on the first episode of season nine, which was less horrifying than the season eight finale had been, but was still pretty traumatizing. Maybe Cas would have been more upset about Mark, or Dean more upset about reliving seeing Mark’s fate, if they weren’t getting married not long after the episode was to finish.

Despite their current situation, so much shit happened in that first episode of the season that it took several minutes to recover from it. By the time they had, it was a quarter to four.

‘That was … fast,’ Castiel commented, staring at the time on Dean’s phone when he pointed it out to him. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Certain.’

‘But that means we’re getting married in fifteen minutes.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean laughed. ‘I guess it does.’

They began to change out of their normal clothes with no distractions this time. Dean fumbled with his shirt buttons and got them messed up so Cas stepped in to help him, but Cas forgot to tuck in the back of his shirt which is where Dean came in handy. Castiel attempted to fix his hair once fully dressed but it was a losing battle, so Dean stepped in. It was still pretty much a losing battle – like it mattered. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what they looked like.

It mattered that there was a ring box in Dean’s jacket pocket with both of their rings in it and a mutual thumping in their hearts as they joined hands and left their hotel room, on route to a private balcony for a private ceremony where they would be married.

The hotel wasn’t as deserted as it had been last night, or even this morning. There were people swarming around everywhere, almost like the outside, and not one of them paid attention to the pair in smart clothing walking determinedly toward the elevator that would take them above the clouds and into a whole other world they couldn’t even imagine the feeling of, despite already living there.

They were lucky enough to be the only two in the elevator as they ascended towards their floor. They stood side by side in the elevator, Dean shifting his feet side to side.

‘Nervous?’ Castiel asked.

‘I think,’ Dean muttered. ‘I don’t know. Why would I be?’

‘I don’t know either,’ Cas replied, grabbing hold of Dean’s hand again, ‘but I am too.’

‘You are?’

‘Yes,’ he nodded, other hand reaching for Dean’s other hand. ‘I know this is the last chance we have to back out. But I’m not going to.’

‘Neither am I,’ Dean promised. ‘I’m nervous – hell, I’m terrified – but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’

‘Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?’

It was. Castiel always knew the right thing to say to him now, he’d always known the right thing to say in the past, too, for years, but Dean had been stupid enough not to listen. All of a sudden, he felt like crying, but he let no tears escape. Instead, he stepped closer, their hands pressed between them, and kissed Cas just as the doors were sliding open.

They pulled apart and stepped out, half expecting to be stepping into a whole other world, but everything stared the same around them as they headed towards the right balcony. The room preceding it was closed off and someone stood outside, waiting for them, and so it began.

They had to show their license and their IDs inside the room, but that was it. It was that easy. There was someone taking pictures, someone filming, and they walked out to the balcony and so it truly began.

It was a regular and short ceremony. Some words, no vows, and an ‘I do’ from Dean.

When Castiel was asked if he took Dean to be his husband, he replied, ‘of course,’ as if it was the most insulting thing in the world that he needed to be asked, that it wasn’t obvious from a single glance.

Their rings read _I need him._ and _I need him, too._

Their rings fit perfectly, just like their lips as they came crashing together and their hands clung to each other.

That was it.

Really, it was all a little underwhelming, but it was official. And they were together. And they didn’t have to say anything because they’d already said it all.

Transitioning from a mindset where they’d just gotten married to one where they arranged a photo and video pickup time was one of the oddest things in the world – they were congratulated well, of course, but it was as if the world had stayed the same, like no one else was effected by the new union that was made – no, not made. Solidified. Surely, with them feeling like this, like the world had only just begun, _someone_ must have been feeling the same thing _somewhere_?

It was almost a disappointment to head up to the Top of the World restaurant.

‘So, we did it,’ Dean commented, the two of them really talking for the first time since the elevator before their actual literal _wedding_. ‘We’re married.’

‘A real married couple,’ Castiel confirmed, nodding along at his side, squeezing his fingers. ‘We’re a real. Married. Couple.’

They stopped walking in the middle of a hallway to grip each other so tightly it was like they would explode. Fists clenched, arms like vices they wrapped around each other, and suddenly they were giddy. People were staring, but they didn’t care.

‘We just got married,’ Dean offered onlookers, by way of an explanation.

There were some congratulations given, but the pair were still looked at strangely.

They arrived five minutes before their reservation time, and they couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t exactly their busiest hour though many tables were still filled, so they were let in and led to their table for two and given menus, champagne and deep congratulations from their waiter and from the person who seated them.

‘I might have mentioned it when I was making the reservation,’ Dean grinned slightly guiltily.

‘Good,’ Castiel declared. ‘Everyone should know that you and I just got married. Like normal people do. Dean, I can’t stop saying it.’

‘Neither can I,’ Dean laughed, throwing his whole body into it as he stared at Cas. The excitement hadn’t really worn off yet, but Dean tried his best to act normally. ‘So, are you going to take my name?’ he joked.

‘Well, since I don’t exactly have a last name of my own,’ Cas replied, ‘I think I should. Besides, didn’t you offer it to be once before?’

‘I believe I did,’ Dean grinned, a twinkle in his eye, a twinkle in his very being. ‘Castiel Winchester. Imagine that.’

‘It’s difficult to. It sounds unusual.’

‘But fitting.’

‘Yes, that too.’ He paused, picking up his menu, but put it right back down again. ‘Dean …’

‘Yeah?’

‘Nothing,’ Castiel replied, shaking his head and looking down at his menu. He couldn’t concentrate on the words, all of them blurring into lines of black with no letters until he looked back up. ‘It’s just that if you’d have asked me a year ago from today where I thought I’d be now … it was likely that I would have replied with “dead,” or worse.’

‘What’s worse than death?’ Dean asked, although he could think of many things. ‘To you, I mean.’

‘Losing you,’ Castiel replied quietly. ‘And Sam, of course. And for a long time, every day, I really thought I would.’

‘And … now?’

‘Now,’ Castiel declared, reaching across the table and putting his hand on top of Dean’s, squeezing it softly, ‘I know I’ll never lose you. Either of you. Despite the dangers of the world and the jobs we do, I know it’s just not possible, because a world without you in it just doesn’t exist here, or in any alternate reality or dimension or parallel universe that could be thought up. You’re the only constant in my life, and the only constant in the survival of the universe.’

‘And you’re the only constant in the survival of _my_ universe,’ Dean told him. ‘No, _our_ universe. The one that’s just you and me, forget all the other stuff that’s always been around for me for a second. Without you, there’s no me. You’re one of the few things that made it maybe worth staying alive. And now you’re the thing that makes me _sure_ staying alive is worth it.’

‘I’m glad to have been one of those things,’ Castiel smiled at him, a whole new world to be seen in his eyes. A new beginning. A life he had never had, never thought he could have, but deep down had always wanted.

‘Let’s order,’ Dean decided. ‘We’ve got years to talk about this. We only have one shot at eating in a revolving restaurant unless we decide to come back one day.’

‘I’m starving,’ Castiel declared, looking back down at the menu he’d been neglecting.

‘You’re always starving,’ Dean grinned at him, rolling his eyes, feeling a swarming sense of pride in the fact that he could say something so casual yet have it be so true, because he had Cas, he was with Cas, Cas was _his_ to know that about.

The menu was almost confusing, with how fancy it was, but they weren’t going to cut any corners here. Apart from salads. Because gross. They drank their Champagne and they got appetizers and mains and dessert, and conversation flowed easily. They managed to stay out of the territory of the deep and meaningful, instead discussing casual, near meaningless things, as if nothing had changed. What did Cas think the rest of season nine of Grey’s would entail, now he’d seen the first episode? How was Dean coping with rewatching all of the shit that went down? When were they going to watch the rest of American Horror Story, or Friends, or the other stuff Dean had promised to show him?

As they ate, Dean decided he was going to teach Cas to cook, rather than just telling him what to do, which Cas was up for. He also decided he was going to help Cas train up and improve on his hunting skills, something Cas had asked him about once or twice. Castiel greatly looked forward to learning about various types of guns and how to shoot them. More importantly, he looked forward to having Dean behind him and positioning his hands on them, helping him aim at targets, the two of them pressed together and acting as one …

‘It’s gonna be weird going back to just … hunting,’ Dean frowned as he thought about it. ‘For so long we’d just come across a normal case or two in a month while researching on some … _thing_. I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to just be a _normal_ hunter.’

‘I’ve yet to experience being a normal hunter,’ Castiel mused. ‘I can count the amount of actual cases I’ve been on easily. I’d like to get into it like you and Sam back before the mess of demons and angels fell into your laps. One angel and one lap being quite literal.’

Dean smirked but it quickly broke into a goofy grin and he laughed, ducking his head to hide his blush, acting like he was concentrating on cutting some of his food.

‘You’ll make a great hunter,’ Dean promised him, when he finally looked back up. ‘Things will be better than they ever were before, you’ll see.’

‘I trust you,’ Castiel replied, his smile brighter than a sunrise. ‘You’re always right.’

They left the restaurant right after paying, hand in hand back towards their room. It was a less surreal experience than the daze they’d been in on their way up there, they were returning to Earth, remembering the normality of things, grounding themselves but without kissing the tarmac. Before, it had felt like they’d been light headed, the world shimmering and speeding by, but now everything had slowed down again and their heads had cleared and the world’s turning had resumed it’s normal pace.

‘There’s things we’ll have to talk about,’ Dean commented, on the journey back to their room. ‘And we’ll have to talk to Sam. And Aroura. Things are changing, Cas.’

‘I know,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I, for one, would be perfectly happy resuming with how things were when I first moved in, the three of us in casual harmony, apart from the fact that you and I are together now and married with a fish. But Sam and Aroura …’

‘They’re pretty serious, man. I talked to Sam about her before – he’s head over heels. Like she’s got him under some kind of spell. They’re almost … like we are. Except nowhere near as awesome.’

‘Part of me thinks it’s impossible for them to be so serious so quickly after such a long absence from each other,’ Castiel frowned, leaning against the side of the elevator. ‘But part of me remembers seeing their souls brightening for each other, remembers seeing them when they were reconnecting, souls aside, seeing how they look at each other …’

‘I have a feeling they won’t be as easy going as us about things,’ Dean agreed with what he was getting at. ‘Aroura didn’t grow up with what we did … I think. I mean she’s got grandparents on the East coast, she’s got a whole life even if she is … y’know, The Savior … a life Sam’s getting involved in, the kind of life Sam always wanted … I think they’re gonna leave, Cas.’

‘So do I,’ Castiel replied quietly.

‘But it’s not like we’ll never see Sam again,’ Dean assured both of them. ‘That’s not gonna happen after everything we’ve been through. But he’ll get drawn in by the … normal stuff. Who knows if he’ll even stay hunting, if there’s no big threat hanging over our heads? He told me once that he’d accepted that was his life now, but … if it doesn’t _have_ to be …’

‘He almost got a college degree,’ Castiel recalled, as they walked out of the elevator together. ‘That must count for something, in the real world.’

‘Hell, decent grades in high school and being a graduate counts for a hell of a lot in the real world,’ Dean told him. ‘Even being a high school dropout can get you somewhere if you’ve got skills in the right areas. Sam could damn well get a real job and live that apple pie life he’s always wanted. And years ago I would have felt weird about it but now …’

‘You’re okay with it?’

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded. ‘I am. Even at the start of last month the whole idea would have freaked me out. But now I’ve got something … away from him, y’know? It’s not just the two of us against the world, featuring the other people in our life occasionally, some more than others … it’s me, it’s him, it’s me and you, it’s him and Aroura, it’s like we’re finally free of being dependent on each other for everything all the time.’

‘I know,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘It’s obvious that things have changed. And for the better. It would be obvious to anyone.’

‘I’m just afraid that if we step too far away from what we’re used to that I won’t be me anymore,’ Dean admitted in a small voice. ‘I know I could have that too, everything he’ll probably have, you and me could have something … but … I feel like if I ever stop, stop hunting or whatever … I won’t be _me_ anymore.’

‘You won’t stop,’ Castiel told him. It wasn’t assurance, it was just a fact. ‘Even if you do, you won’t. You could stop and do that whole thing. _We_ could do that whole thing, from the bunker, from that imaginary house with the dogs and the ribbons, but if something creeps up what seems like a case, or if you read about something in the paper … we both know you’re going to take that case. And I’m going to be there by your side, and I’ll help you kill the monster, and then like we said we can go visit Sam and visit Aroura and laugh about the case while we do something mundane and normal like everyone else in the world … and it won’t be a bad thing.’

‘You make it sound like it won’t be a bad thing,’ Dean said quietly, as they reached their door and lingered outside of it. ‘You make it sound like that’s where we’ve been headed all along. Like no matter how different our lives could be … we’ll always be the same. We’ll always be us. We’ll always be a hunter and an angel, an angel who just so happens to be human and a hunter now too.’

Castiel smiled, almost sadly.

‘Dean, as long as you’ve got the Impala and I still have my trenchcoat, we’ll always be us.’

‘You think so?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows and shifting his weight from foot to foot, smiling the tiniest of hopeful smiles.

‘I know so,’ Castiel promised, putting his hands on the side of his face and kissing him as further proof. Always steady, always constant, never changing in how he always made him feel so much better about everything, always Cas no matter how he dressed or how he’d learned to free himself up and adapt to humanity.

‘Come on,’ Dean mumbled against Cas’s lips when he’d barely pulled away. ‘Let’s go inside.’

‘Maybe we’ll make it to the bed this time,’ Castiel replied optimistically as Dean pulled out their room key, ‘or at least maybe we won’t just settle for the bathroom floor.’

Dean opened the door and they slid through, shutting it behind them and turning on the lights. As soon as the key was out of his hand, Cas was on him, one hand grabbing at his hair and the other trying to push off his jacket.

‘Still going for the bed?’ Dean mumbled, barely audible through ferocious kisses attacking his lips.

‘Maybe the couch,’ Castiel mumbled, backing up, pulling Dean with him and leaving a trail of clothes behind them.


	37. Bro

They did make it to the bed, eventually, after spending some time on the couch and then up against the wall. The bed was freshly made and welcoming, eager to be messed up as Dean fell onto it from being carried, and Cas was back on top of him in an instant, the two of them grinding together in ferocious harmony, wedded harmony, naked but for their rings, which they would never take off.

After a time, they fell back against the pillows, breathing heavily, side by side. Moments later, Dean turned on his side and buried his face in Cas’s side, feeling Cas rub his back and wrap his arms around him, strong and secure. Dean pressed his lips to Cas’s skin, warm and flushed and smooth, dragging his lips over as much of the area as he could without having to move much. The late nights and early mornings of their journey here were getting to him, but he didn’t want to close his eyes no matter how much they begged him to. Eventually Cas’s trailing fingers and the rhythm of his breathing against Dean’s forehead forced him to, and then he was out, early, light still peering in through the window and illuminating the two of them as they lay, Dean asleep, Cas still awake.

Castiel, angel of the lord, fierce warrior of heaven, was now a married man, with a gold ring on his finger and a man at his side, breathing against him, arm across his hips and even in sleep clutching onto him for dear life. As if he was going anywhere.

Cas was staying right by Dean’s side as they galloped forth into an unknown future. He had always been planning on staying by his side, even back when Dean still had the Mark of Cain and he was going to stay with him and watch him murder the world, still doing everything he could to get the real Dean, _his_ Dean, to come back to him. And if Dean’s eyes turned black and he turned on Cas, Cas would cover those eyes and remember what should have been, the green depths of beauty that were once there, as he died satisfied with the fact that he’d done everything he could to get his Dean back.

He was prepared to die for him in purgatory, staying one step ahead of him and fighting off as many monsters as he could, just so Dean had a shot at getting out, at getting back, at surviving even if it was without him.

He’d been prepared to die for him, die with him, never hurt him, since forever.

And now he didn’t have to do any of that. He got to live for him, live with him, for forever.

But a normal forever. Not a forever of grey trees and fighting monsters, and not a forever of an angel trying to stop a man kept alive by a mark on his arm. A real, true, human forever.

It was like he’d always been destined for humanity.

He remembered when he’d fallen, when Metatron had taken his grace. He had said that he hadn’t been good at being an angel, but he could be good at being human. Now he knew that no matter what he was, angel or human or anything else, it wasn’t about whether he was good at _being_ that or not. It was whether or not he was willing to embrace the life he wanted.

Inevitably, he would have been human though, even if he was still an angel. Today, their wedding day, was the day he would’ve given up his grace for Dean if he still had it, so the two of them could grow old together and live out their lives the way they chose. The fact that he had been willing to make that sacrifice was enough, even though now he didn’t have to.

He would sacrifice anything for Dean, if it meant that Dean got to be happy and live the life he deserved. He would even give up _Dean_ for Dean, as he had been willing to time and time again.

He remembered watching him rake leaves, a lifetime ago, invisible, just to see Dean live out a life he’d always deserved.

Next time he watched Dean rake leaves, or do anything of the sort, Dean would know he was there and he would be living out the life he deserved, too.

Everything he’d done, he’d thought he was doing right at the time, despite the things that turned out to be bad.

He _deserved_ this.

He’d earned it.

Dean stirred, his hand sliding upwards and onto Cas’s stomach. Cas placed his hand on top of Dean’s, lacing their fingers together. Their left hands. Their wedding rings further solidifying they needed each other, their matching leather straps which were discarded with their clothes on the floor showing that not only did they need each other, but they wanted each other.

Castiel found himself very comfortable with these thoughts and his situation as he allowed himself to drift off to sleep, a rest well-earned and well needed.

Castiel awoke an hour and a half later, to find Dean had vanished from his side, but had appeared perched in his lap, their lips coming apart as Cas’s eyes opened.

‘Hey,’ Dean said quietly.

‘Hey,’ Cas greeted, automatically smiling as he woke up with the most beautiful thing in the world to gaze up at. ‘What time is it?’

‘A little after eight,’ Dean told him, rubbing his hands comfortingly down Cas’s chest. ‘At night,’ he added, just to clarify. ‘You look pretty,’ he added another thing, smiling cutely down at Cas’s sleepy gaze.

‘ _You_ look pretty,’ Castiel corrected, putting his hands on Dean’s thighs.

‘You just woke up,’ Dean scoffed. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘I know _exactly_ what I’m saying,’ Castiel corrected. He grazed his hands upwards over Dean’s sides, making Dean shiver slightly. ‘What are you doing?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Looking at you,’ he answered. ‘I don’t have any definite plans. I just figured I’d better wake you or else we’ll be up early in the morning.’

‘Get off,’ Cas requested, beginning to sit up as Dean followed that request. He sat on the edge of the bed, stretching, Dean watching his back muscles work as they flexed, tightened and relaxed, black tattooed wings flexing with them..

Dean kissed Cas’s shoulder blade. Castiel smiled, looking down, then looked to the side as Dean joined him on the side of the bed, smiling lazily and gazing at Cas, not even concentrating on doing it, but just doing it just … because. Castiel gently took Dean’s chin between his thumb and the side of his index finger and kissed him, applying the lightest amount of pressure on his lips, letting his hand drop as he leaned back, separating their kiss.

‘What do you feel like doing for the next few hours?’ Dean asked, pressing his lips against the side of Cas’s neck and murmuring against his skin.

‘I don’t know,’ Castiel replied, smirking as Dean nuzzled him, feeling tongue occasionally join lips, and then Dean began to suck lightly. ‘It seems like you have something in mind.’

‘I was thinking,’ Dean mumbled, barely lifting his mouth, ‘we could watch a movie … but not pay attention to it.’

‘That sounds like a plan,’ Castiel approved, as Dean pulled away from his neck and went to stand, pulling him up with him.

Dean dragged Cas over to the couch, ignoring their clothes on the ground, and pushed him down onto it. The fabric was soft against his bare skin, something he hadn’t discovered when fooling around on it the first time because they were so busy with the removal of shoes and socks and pants, then Cas pulled Dean up again, shedding their underwear as they slammed against the wall, Dean’s back against it, his legs around Cas’s waist and Cas’s fingers inside him …

Cas was growing hard again at the thought.

Dean left him again to grab his laptop and connect up Netflix and whatnot, going into the movies section.

‘Any suggestions?’ Dean asked, teasing by how slowly he was scrolling.

‘I literally couldn’t care less,’ Castiel replied.

‘Boring rom-com it is,’ Dean decided, grinning at Cas as he selected a random one and let it start playing as he placed the laptop down, then the remote right next to it.

Dean walked slowly over to Cas and perched himself right in his lap, his legs the perfect seat, his neck the perfect thing to throw his arms around and his jawline the perfect thing to kiss, right up under his ear, sucking on the stubble-covered skin and grazing his lips against the roughness, dragging them down to work on the side of his chin then under it where jaw started to connect to neck, then down even farther to the place the place purple was already blooming, carving a path past it down to the collarbone.

Castiel closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Dean did his work, the fact that there was the opening of a movie audible in the background a completely irrelevant thing. The sensation of soft and rough, smooth and scratchy, lips and whiskers dragging along his flushed skin, made him want Dean to both speed up and go south, yet also stay as painfully slow as he was going as Cas’s fingertips padded across the skin of Dean’s lower back, his other hand caressing his thigh and what was between both thighs, and upon discovering Dean was still soft after wondering _fucking how that was possible_ he started appreciating the fact that Dean was being completely selfless … this seemed to be all for Cas, despite Dean seeming to get pleasure out of it.

Cas was going to be covered in hickeys by the end of this. It was almost like Dean was claiming him as his own, marking his territory, like Cas had branded Dean when he pulled him out of hell, and that brand had later become a tattoo of his handprint, which Cas placed his hand over now, as Dean’s lips grazed his nipple and began sucking on the skin close to it, a mark likely to appear there too, Dean’s mark, Dean’s claim, no one else’s.

It must have taken ten minutes for Dean to make it onto his knees on the ground in front of him, and another five for him to actually acknowledge Cas’s arousal, instead having focused on Cas’s hips, then down his thighs, inner and outer and _finally_ in between as Cas relaxed, using one hand to pet Dean’s hair, dragging his fingers through it and stroking down the side of Dean’s hollowed cheek. He used the other hand when Dean released him, licking the head by itself, to grab himself and graze the tip over Dean’s waiting lips and tongue as Dean tried to follow his movements before he sank his mouth back down so far it was like he was going to swallow him whole.

When Cas came, not a drop made it onto the floor or onto the couch or onto his own legs, and then Dean was in his lap again, now hard because of the noises Cas had been making, so Cas took him in his hand almost as though it was obligatory and locked their eyes together, moving his hand up and down, quickly, slowly, twisting it and keeping it still, focusing only on the head and then sinking all the way back down, caressing the shaft before continuing.

Dean’s climax wasn’t as controlled as Cas’s had been, and it went all over the two of them and a little got on the couch cushion which they made a note to flip later and then they stayed together, Dean still in Cas’s lap and Cas holding him tightly, finally starting to pay attention to the movie and attempting to catch themselves up with what had happened.

That random click had been a lucky one. Not only was Jim Carrey in this, aka one of Dean’s favorite actors who he loved in Liar Liar and various other movies, but it was a _gay thing_. Talk about their good luck with irony, and it turned out to be a very interesting movie, and Dean usually hated these same-old rom-com types, only having chosen that genre because, well, he’d just gotten married and a romantic _comedy_ seemed more appealing than a plain old romantic movie without comedy.

When the movie ended, the duo headed to the bathroom to clean up, talking about the movie as they did so, working in harmony as they had last night, using a damp towel to clean themselves off instead of a shower which would be better for the morning.

Tonight when climbing into bed they could appreciate it more because they were more alert. They slid into the middle together, arms reaching for each other and finding their way securely around one and other as they leaned back against the pillows, although Dean preferred Cas’s chest which he rested his head on, securely nestled into his side, one of Cas’s legs between his own.

‘So, good day,’ Dean commented, as casual as if it had been a day of lounging around the bunker doing nothing at all.

‘Very good,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Shopping … marriage … revolving restaurant … movie … that diner from earlier was good.’

‘It was,’ Dean agreed, nodding against Cas’s chest. ‘We should go there for breakfast tomorrow.’

‘Then we will,’ Castiel decided for the two of them. ‘Tomorrow …’

‘A whole free day.’

‘And two more after that.’

‘So much we could do,’ Dean mused, laughing into Cas’s warmth. ‘We have to pick up our pictures tomorrow. And our video.’

‘And after that?’

‘Anything we want,’ Dean grinned, although Castiel couldn’t see the grin. ‘I think we should go out. Tomorrow. Look around. Do more than shopping. And then Saturday … we do the opposite. Break out the sofa bed and stay in all day watching shit.’

‘And Sunday?’

‘We can figure that out when we get there.’

Castiel nodded, tightening his arms around Dean. Making sure Dean was safe within them, even though he knew he was. Would always be. Cas would always be there, like he always had been, to shelter Dean from harm whether there was harm impending or not.

‘I’m tired,’ he stated, after yawning once, his chest heaving, Dean’s head rising up on it but no complaints being made.

‘It’s been a long day,’ Dean pointed out. ‘A long few days, actually.’

‘But worth it.’

‘Oh, definitely worth it.’

There was a pause, with nothing left to say for tonight.

‘I love you,’ Castiel stated.

Dean sat up, Cas loosening his arms when he did, letting Dean kiss him.

‘I love you too,’ Dean whispered on his lips.

Dean slid back down and turned on his side, his back to Cas. Cas turned in the same direction and wrapped his arms around Dean from behind, burying his face in his neck. His hand slipped up onto Dean’s shoulder, fitting right into the handprint tattooed there, again, again and always.

They didn’t speak again, falling asleep shortly afterwards with no worries or cares in the world, even if just for a few days.

They woke up late the next morning, sprawled out in opposite directions with the blankets a mess. Dean woke first and pushed the covers off of himself, too warm in the heat of their hotel room. The cool air was sudden and harsh but not unwelcome and the stretches that followed were deeply satisfying. With a groan he let his shoulders drop back down once he’d finished stretching his back and he turned on his side, pushed down the lump the covers he’d pushed away made and started to survey Cas, who was still asleep and facing him.

Dean was laying next to his sleeping _husband_. A word so completely foreign to him. He’d assumed he’d never do the whole marriage thing … yet here was this angel who had gripped him tight and held on until there were rings on their fingers and an unclear and new path about to weave out in front of them.

He had to admit that he had in fact thought about it before, in his deepest, most secret of fantasies and dreams, when he’d finally accepted that yes, he was in _love_ with Cas, he didn’t just want him to fuck him one time to get the physical attraction out of the way. But then, he’d also accepted that he could never _tell_ Cas because Cas could never, ever, feel that way about him.

But he did. And here they were. And there Cas was, rolling onto his back as he awoke, blue eyes blinking at the ceiling, strong legs kicking off heavy and annoying blankets.

Dean scooted over and closed the distance between them, planting a kiss on Cas’s shoulder. Cas turned his head to look at him, a sleepy smile radiating ultimate beauty and Dean flashed him a goofy grin back.

‘Good morning, _Castiel Winchester_ ,’ Dean cooed into the skin of Cas’s shoulder, pressing another kiss against it and another few down his upper arm.

‘Say it again,’ Castiel commanded.

‘Say what again?’ Dean teased.

‘You _know_ what,’ Cas scolded.

‘ _Oh_. You mean Castiel Winchester? You like the sound of that or something?’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Cas hissed, turning onto his side so he could throw his arms around Dean and press the two of them together, including their lips which collided in what was probably the fiercest morning kiss in all of history. ‘I _do_ like the sound of that.’

‘I like the _look_ of your collarbone … hell, a lot of places from the neck down,’ Dean replied slyly. ‘Been experimenting with purple paint, or …?’

‘More like pink,’ Castiel corrected. ‘And more like lips. _These_ lips.’

Cas grabbed Dean by the chin and kissed him again, pressing his lips onto his _hard_. When he pulled back his lips were like a suction vice, and once Dean was free to smile he did so goofily and a little sleepily, gazing fondly at the man just inches from his face.

‘I like that better than the paint thing,’ Dean giggled, yes, _giggled_ , his giddiness making Castiel laugh, close his eyes and turn his head downwards so his forehead rested against Dean’s chin.

‘Come on,’ Castiel mummed, speaking to Dean’s neck, ‘let’s get up. We said we’d go out today.’

‘But I’m comfortable,’ Dean whined.

‘And we said we’d stay in bed all day _tomorrow._ Besides, we have pictures to look at and I want breakfast first.’

‘ _Ca-as_...’

‘No,’ Castiel said promptly, pulling back and away from Dean’s grip with a struggle, because Dean was holding onto him pretty tightly.

Dean groaned, throwing his arms around Cas’s waist from behind as Castiel sat on the edge of the bed and then stood up, Dean’s upper body being pulled forwards and upwards with him with Dean’s face landing rather spectacularly in Cas’s ass. He buried his face in it, kissing all he could reach while pulling backwards, but Cas grabbed his hands and pushed them away from where they were locked together around his waist and then proceeded to walk forward, Dean left moaning in annoyance and hanging over the edge of the bed.

Groaning, Dean clambered to his feet and followed Cas, throwing his arms around him again but he was unresponsive until they reached the shower, where he finally turned towards Dean and placed a light kiss on his lips.

‘You’re so needy,’ Cas smiled, kissing him again as the water cascaded down, cold but fast warming, giving them a jolt and waking them up.

‘Well, you do know I need you,’ Dean grinned with a waggle of his eyebrows, his arms locked around Cas’s waist and his hands resting on top of Cas’s ass.

‘I know,’ Castiel replied, tightening his arms around Dean, ‘your ring says so.’

‘So does yours.’

‘I know that, too,’ Castiel confirmed, tilting his head while surveying Dean with utmost love and admiration. ‘I didn’t always know. I didn’t always believe. But I do now.’

‘Me too,’ Dean grinned, their smiles bumping together as they leaned in to kiss.

They stared at each other for several seconds when they came apart, and then it was business as usual for the rest of the morning.

Their shower consisted of lots of helping each other out with washing their backs and Dean getting too carried away with it, lots of light laughter and then laughter that was less light when Dean dropped a small bottle of shampoo on his foot and swore and whimpered because ‘it hit me right on the bone, Cas! It’s not fucking funny you dick!’

‘We haven’t even been married a day and you’re already calling me profanities,’ Castiel disapproved, frowning at Dean’s angry glare. ‘That’s hardly fair unless I get to call you one too.’

‘Go ahead. I fucking dare you.’

‘Dare accepted, asshole,’ Castiel shrugged, and turned his back on Dean’s suffering.

Their little spat was soon forgotten as they all were once they were out of the shower and began the rest of their readying themselves for the day.

Cas wore one of his new button up shirts and wore it with several buttons undone at the top, plus the leather jacket that made Dean look as though he were going to die with his longing looks. Dean was a little slower to get ready, because he’d been watching and admiring Cas most of the morning, still finding it hard to believe that this man, this _glorious_ man, was _his_. Finding it hard to believe that this was the man who had once been confused by every joke, found weird, deep heavenly meaning in most things, wore the same outfit every day and was afraid to express himself for who he truly was.

And now he was here purposefully making himself look more attractive, giving Dean sly looks and smirks because he knew exactly what he was fucking doing, and as they spoke he understood every joke and every euphemism that would have stumped him two months ago, and he was making them right back.

‘Well, are we going?’ Castiel asked for the second time, Dean not having heard him the first.

Dean responded by walking straight over to him and throwing his arms around him, glowing with pride and love and respect and awe and gratitude. He kissed him on the cheek, hard, and said, ‘yeah, let’s go.’

And so out they went with wedding rings and matching leather straps on their wrists, finally united in a way the entire world could see as they walked through the hotel imagining that somehow, people, strangers, were seeing them differently than they had before. It was like it was _obvious_ that they were _married_ and everyone in the hotel, on the streets and then at Roxy’s Diner could tell, which was where they got their breakfast.

Their server was the same one as yesterday, and was quick to notice the wedding rings that hadn’t been there yesterday.

‘Breakfast is on the house for you two,’ she said kindly. ‘But don’t tell anyone I’m giving you two special treatment. A dozen newlyweds pass through here every day and get nothing of such.’

‘Our lips are sealed,’ Dean promised, and the woman winked as she passed by.

‘I wonder why she gave us special treatment?’ Castiel asked, frowning at Dean across the table.

‘Because we’re cute,’ Dean grinned, grabbing Cas’s hand and holding it in the middle of the table, stroking his thumb across the back of it. ‘That’s why.’

Their breakfast did not disappoint and was just as good as their lunch had been yesterday. The toast was perfectly crunchy with plenty of butter, not burned or soggy even a crumb, and the eggs which in some diners were often too runny or sticky were perfect in the omelets they ordered. They were congratulated again by their server when they left.

Next they had to pick their pictures and get their video, back at the hotel, which was a thrilling experience because although the ceremony had been simple and didn’t seem like a huge deal, it meant a lot to them and to have something to look back on, stick up on their wall at home with the rest of their things, was something they cherished.

When they got their pictures back to their room, it was more than tempting to take pictures of them and send them to Sam, but their marriage had to be a surprise when they got back to bunker, so he could watch the DVD which they settled on the couch to watch, as short and simple and sweet as they remembered. Dean nestled his face into Cas’s neck as they watched and Cas kissed his forehead softly and it was over too soon.

‘Best. Movie. Ever,’ Dean stated as it ended, making Cas laugh out loud and place his hand over his mouth to stifle it. Dean pulled that hand away, complaining, ‘no. Stop. I like hearing you laugh.’

So Castiel laughed until he was done.

Having seen the DVD, they finally decided to put those blank discs they’d gotten at Walmart to use, so they uploaded all the little videos they’d taken together on Dean’s phone, including the one Claire took at Christmas, onto Dean’s laptop, and then it was a matter of googling things and figuring out how to make a playlist on Window’s Media Player to get them all onto the disc. They watched that DVD, too, and despite most of the videos being stupid and under a minute long, just them laughing, or them kissing, or them laying together and saying things to each other while looking between each other and the camera, they still meant as much as the video of their wedding.

And now that it was midday, it was finally time to go out like they’d planned.  

It turned out there were a lot of things to do in Vegas during the day, but not a lot of them were altogether appealing. They threw around ideas of things they found on the internet, like driving out of the city and visiting the Grand Canyon, but Dean had seen it half a dozen times and it was one of the many places Cas had already visited as an angel. Other options were a roller coaster thing, a case solving thing, a museum, a tour of a dam and a bus tour. The last option seemed appealing, but they’d have to book tickets so they decided against it.

‘We should just walk around,’ Dean suggested, looking out the window. ‘Go into random stores and don’t buy anything. Or hell, do if there’s something either of us likes the look of. Look at buildings. Check out all the attractions we can see on foot. It’s a damn vacation, we should treat it like one.’

‘And if we get lost?’ Castiel challenged.

‘Then we get lost,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Come on. Are we going or what?’

Castiel grabbed his jacket which he’d removed to watch the DVDs and threw it back on, Dean practically trembling to behold the site.

‘We’re going,’ Castiel confirmed, accepting the hand that Dean had held out.

They left the hotel in as high spirits as they’d left in earlier; possibly higher after watching the DVDs. The first thing they did when they got outside was take a picture together outside the hotel, and then another one after Cas seized the phone and photographed them as he kissed Dean’s cheek, Dean looking both surprised and joyous.

They took pictures in a lot of places around the city, in front of pretty buildings and once Dean took a picture of Cas patting a stray dog that had come up to him to sniff his feet. They went into several shops and didn’t end up buying anything, and they got ice cream and ate it as they walked around the streets, laughing about things they saw, or saw people doing. Every few blocks they ran into a street performer, and a woman on stilts let them take pictures with her, and so did two drag queens on the corner doing challenges for money for a competition, the challenges being fed to them through an earpiece. Dean ended up letting one of the queens draw a dick on his arm, where Cas helped the other one out by letting her put whipped cream on his face and lick it off.

‘That was quite possibly the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,’ Castiel said, laughing as he and Dean walked away after taking pictures with both queens.

‘Vegas, baby!’ Dean announced to the sky, loudly, laughing. ‘You never know what you’ll run– dude, Elvis!’

There was an Elvis impersonator taking song requests on the next corner, so Dean and Cas stayed to watch for a while. He had a guitar with him and he was pretty good at doing the Elvis voice, too, and he was wearing the classic white bedazzled Elvis costume, with the big hair and the shades to go with it. Dean and Cas were among many to take pictures with him before they moved on, and they dropped a dollar in his dollar filled guitar case for good measure.

There was a guy juggling flaming knives on one street, and there was a mime on that same street, and a block over there was a man who had completely bronzed himself and was standing like a statue and whenever someone dropped money in the extra hat by his feet he came alive.

Walking the streets was so much better than any tour they could have gone on or any attraction they could have visited. They saw more and got to do more and weren’t shepherded around like sheep or stuck in one spot or stuck sharing their experience with strangers. The only strangers they shared it with were performers and kind strangers they met as they walked, occasionally going in circles because everything changed so quickly it was easy to forget that they’d already walked a certain street.

They walked so much that there feet hurt and they got so far away from their hotel that they didn’t know where the hell they were, so they had to get a cab back to it while laughing about how they’d joked about getting lost, when they hadn’t really expected to. They were laughing at just about anything at this point through, making all of the excuses to lean against each other and grin at each other and probably thoroughly confuse their driver as they exited at the hotel, still cackling.

They reached their room and dumped their jackets on the couch which they collapsed down on side by side, their laughter having finally died down as they walked through the hotel. They slouched together, sighing, their shoulders and heads colliding as they did and they sighed together.

There was a prolonged silence as the two of them sat there.

And then, ‘I’m bored.’

‘Me too!’ Dean exclaimed, zipping up into an upright sitting position quickly, watching Cas get into one more slowly next to him. ‘It’s like … there’s nothing else to do. ‘

‘We’ve got our plans for tomorrow,’ Castiel listed, ‘but nothing for the rest of today or for Sunday. It’s still early. It’s barely even evening.’

‘I feel like we’re supposed to be doing all this crazy fun stuff,’ Dean told him, ‘but when I’m with you I don’t feel like … wasting away time at a Casino getting drunk on free drinks at the Black Jack table. And I don’t feel like visiting shows full of half-naked women. I just … want to do whatever you want to do. And I don’t know what you want to do.’

‘I just want to _be_ with you,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘And … I don’t know, do something I previously never would have thought of. Like, let’s … go to a Casino tonight.’

‘For real?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel decided. ‘But we don’t have to get drunk on free drinks. We don’t have to waste money on slot machines. We do what you’re good at and place small bets on things in an attempt to win bigger money. You’re good at reading people, you earn half of your money gambling. Most, actually.’

‘Okay, yeah,’ Dean nodded excitedly, ‘we can do that.’

‘And we’ll need to have dinner first,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘We can do that too. Stay in with room service or get out of the room?’

‘As nice as this room is, we agreed to spend all of _tomorrow_ basking in the glory of that,’ Castiel replied logically, ‘so I say, out. But I think we should wash up first, because we smell like the city and like sweat from walking.’

Dean smirked as an idea struck him and he climbed into Cas’s lap.

‘We could fuck in the bath,’ he suggested. ‘Like not get out of it this time. We could fuck _in_ it, then go eat, then hit up a Casino.’

‘But the lube would wash off in the water,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘I can kneel up,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Then once you’re inside we can get farther down in the water. It’d be fun, come on.’

‘I’m not saying no,’ Castiel assured him, pulling him to his feet. ‘I’m saying … you go set up and I’ll look up somewhere we can eat and make reservations if need be.’

‘Well, look at you,’ Dean grinned. ‘A month and a half ago you were doing research and watching TV and Netflix and not eating or sleeping or any of that crap, and here you are making dinner reservations and gambling plans.’

‘Well, what can I say?’ Castiel asked, shrugging. ‘I adapt quickly. I’m better at humanity this time around, because I wasn’t thrust suddenly into it, unwilling and just … grudgingly doing what I could to survive. _This_ time, the humanity crept in before the literal definition of humanity. The moving into the bunker, the trip with Sam, the trips with you, our relationship, Christmas and interaction with others, _slowly_ becoming literally human … it was never about whether I was an angel or not or anything to do with that. It was about circumstance and opportunity to grow and learn and be something more than a tool in supernatural games.’

‘And I think that journey,’ said Dean, throwing his arms around Cas’s waist and pecking him on the lips, ‘is my favorite journey that I’ve ever taken with anyone. I’m glad to have been a part of all that.’

‘Go be a naked part of all that,’ Castiel instructed. ‘And I’ll join you soon.’ 

‘Yes, sir,’ Dean grinned, saluting and winking, as he turned away and headed towards the bathroom, walking proudly.

Castiel’s research was quick, and it was a choice between three places, all of which were in the same hotel as they were in. He decided to choose the most casual seeming one, McCall’s Heartland Grill. It seemed to fit the tone of the evening. There was the Sky Lounge and there was a place called Fellini’s, but they seemed the kind for the more formal date like the one they’d had after getting married, where tonight they were just having some casual fucking, food and fun.

Damn he wished Dean had heard him use that phrase, because it was fucking genius. Maybe he’d say it out loud later and get it out of just his own mind.

There were no reservations needed, so he scoped out the menu, decided it looked good, and that was what he chose.

He shed his clothes before entering the bathroom, where Dean was sitting on the edge of the tub, naked and waiting for him, with towels and lube beside the sink.

‘Ready for casual fucking, food and fun?’ Castiel asked, grinning evilly.

‘That was so lame,’ said Dean as he stood up, ‘but so fucking genius.’

‘Yeah,’ Castiel smirked, putting his hands on Dean’s waist and sliding them around to his back, then lower down to his ass. ‘That’s me. Lame and so fucking genius. Now stop talking.’

Dean did just as he was commanded, and took a moment to consider how fucking lucky he was to have Cas when it came to this activity. Cas, who liked to be in charge and in control and liked to be the one to suggest new things or new positions. Cas, who liked to make him bend to his every will. Cas, who liked to take things slow as they spent time enjoying the warm water around them, grinding against each other and making it lap at their skin as they gently moved, and Cas, who liked to fuck him slowly on his knees, and then fall back so Dean was riding him, facing away as Cas relaxed back against the side of the tub, his hands on Dean’s hips, fingers digging in as he guided Dean’s frantic and hard movements and bounces up and down, and then sit up as Dean went on, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his back and rubbing and squeezing his dick, rubbing his thumb all around the head, practically _milking_ it as he came into the water which clouded in one area before it began to spread through the rest of the water …

Cas came inside Dean shortly afterwards, and Dean lifted himself off of Cas and lowered himself back down between his legs, leaning back against his chest, slick and wet and warm from the water, Cas’s arms wrapping securely around him from behind.

There was a pause of several minutes as their breathing evened out, and then Dean made a weird ass statement.

‘It’s so weird that dicks float.’

Castiel laughed and reached down farther to take hold of Dean’s casually floating dick and give it a few strokes before he let go so that Dean shivered.  

‘Is that what we do now?’ Castiel asked. ‘Have sex, fall silent and then talk about weird shit?’

‘Isn’t that what married people do?’ Dean asked, turning, churning the water with him, to lay against Cas on his stomach. ‘Go from sex to casual odd discussions to discussing their taxes?’

‘Dean, we don’t pay taxes.’

‘Ahhh, just like all the rich business men,’ Dean grinned. ‘Excellent. I’d like to be Donald Trump so I can make him withdraw from the presidential race, and make him stop tanning. The dude looks like season four Phi Phi O’hara.’

‘Season what who?’

‘Nothing,’ Dean said quickly. ‘At least Phi Phi stopped tanning, though. Trump looks like a Dorito.’

‘Dean, please don’t talk about the man with a mouth that looks like an asshole and hair that looks like a birds nest when we’ve just had sex. It will make me never want to have sex again.’

‘Sorry,’ Dean grinned up at him. ‘But yes, Cas. This is what we do. Have sex and then talk about weird shit.’

‘Wonderful,’ Castiel replied sarcastically, looking down at the adorable, wet man resting his chin and looking up at him with a look in his eyes that made it seem like he was watching the world develop before his eyes. Cas would never, ever stop being grateful for how he’d gotten here, but for now, he’d stopped wondering, because he _knew_. He’d gotten here because he was meant to be here, with Dean, making the life he truly felt he deserved after years of thinking he deserved nothing but the suffering he was getting.

Dean’s adoring eyes suddenly dropped the adoration factor as his eyebrows raised in surprise when the stomach he was leaning against growled.

‘Hungry much?’ Dean asked.

‘We’ve been walking around for hours and we just had sex,’ Castiel justified. ‘That burns a lot of calories.’

‘Then we should eat,’ Dean stated obviously. ‘Did you pick a place?’

‘Right here in the hotel,’ Castiel grinned, confirming it. ‘I picked the most casual one. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all. So, we going?’

‘Well, I think we should get dressed first …’

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself up onto his knees, sitting back on his heels which made his knees crack and made him wince.

‘Ow,’ Dean complained sulkily.

‘You’re getting old,’ Castiel teased, sighing dramatically.

‘Shut up, because you’re fucking older.’

‘I used to be an angel, you ass.’

‘Yeah, but physically,’ Dean explained.

‘Dean, we’ve been over this,’ Castiel reminded him. ‘We’ve been over the fact that what used to be just a vessel is older than you are. That’s not a secret.’

‘But we never specified that that mean it means you’re physically older than me,’ Dean teased, grinning wickedly. ‘Physically you’re probably over forty, you know.’

‘Shut up,’ Castiel muttered.

‘Wow, look at all those wrinkles … yikes, don’t frown. You don’t want to put more lines on your forehead than there already are.’

Cas glared at Dean, making a noise of indignation, and splashed him. Dean sighed, looking down as if disappointed, then he met Cas’s eyes.

‘Now, Castiel, acting childish isn’t going to make you any younger.’

‘Let’s see,’ Castiel began to list. ‘Who frequently groans when getting up from a chair? Is that me, or is it … no, yep, that’s you. And who sometimes has to push himself up by putting his hands on his knees first? Oh yeah, still you. And who often groans when bending over because it makes the bottom of his back ache? Oh yes. _You_.’

‘It’s wear and tear,’ Dean grumped. ‘I’ve been a hunter most of my life. A lot of running and jumping and injury.’

‘Technically I healed literally everything that has ever been wrong with you when I pulled you out of hell.’

‘Well, then, there’s seven years of wear and tear. Still significant.’

‘Yeah, or you’re old.’

‘Bye, Cas.’

Dean stood up and shook off before he stepped out onto the towel he’d laid out beside the bath, and grabbed a towel from beside the sink. He wrapped it around his waist and left the room, but Castiel was quick to follow him.

‘Where the fuck are you going, you moron?’

Dean stopped and rolled his eyes around his eyes as if searching for an answer. He briefly bit his bottom lip and then licked his lips.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I was making a bold statement by leaving, you know.’

‘Leaving with nowhere to go. Genius.’

‘You’re mean.’

‘And we’re dripping. Come on, let’s go dry off in the bathroom where there’s no carpet to dampen.’

Dean sighed dramatically, as if he’d been defeated.

‘Fine,’ he exhaled. ‘Let’s go.’

They returned to the bathroom and dried off in front of the mirror. At one stage Dean caught Cas frowning and looking at his forehead, touching it with a finger as the lines appeared there, but Dean pulled his hand away and kissed his forehead firmly.

‘I was fucking kidding, Cas,’ he reaffirmed. ‘I think those lines are cute. They happen when you smile sometimes too – see, like that. Like when you raise your eyebrows. It’s fucking adorable.’

‘Well, thank you,’ Castiel smiled. ‘And that’s what I tell myself when I see the deep trenches by your eyes when _you_ smile.’

Dean shoved him. He thought he heard Cas mutter a, ‘now who’s childish?’ but he ignored him.

Once they were dry and dressed, they set off to try and find the place Cas had chosen to eat at. It wasn’t difficult and when they got there, what _was_ difficult was choosing what to order. The starter was an easy choice – they both got the Sample Platter, of course. A little bit of nearly everything. And for their main meal, Dean got a Half Rack of Chile Roasted St. Louis Ribs. Castiel got Cajun Chicken & Andouille Sausage Penne Pasta. They, of course, shared with each other throughout and they were very satisfied when they left, now off in search of the Casino.

On the way to the Casino Dean briefed Cas on many of the gambling games they would encounter there, and told him about some of the key things to look out for when gambling and Castiel figured he’d just let Dean, the expert, do most of the work.

‘We can try and earn back some of the money you spent on this,’ Castiel proclaimed.

‘That’d be nice,’ Dean laughed. ‘Or of we left with more than we came with. Never gonna happen, but we could make some good money if we don’t drink. Don’t want our thoughts clouded.’

Dean booped Cas on the nose and Cas laughed.

‘Noted.’

‘We can drink later,’ Dean suggested. ‘Dude, there’s this thing I’ve always wanted to try since I read about it on the internet – if we order a bottle of champagne for our room there’s a thing I can that’s like, sucking your dick with the champagne in my mouth. The fizz in it is supposed to feel pretty good.’

‘Sounds intriguing,’ Castiel replied. ‘We should both try that.’

‘Dick with a side of champagne,’ Dean sighed, throwing his arm around Cas. ‘Sounds delicious.’

Castiel just rolled his eyes.

They reached the Casino, and it was teeming with life, and Dean knew all the right places to go and the right games to play. Castiel soon adapted to the atmosphere and Dean soon became used to it as he usually did. It was nice to have Cas with him here, instead of coming alone to waste time and get drunk, or coming with Sam judging him and telling him to do it strategically, do you know how rigged this is or that is, blah blah blah …

Ironic that he’d become Sam now, in the sense that he had a strategy and was going to do his best to avoid things that were rigged, and he was definitely going to keep away from machines.

They stayed in the Casino for two and a half hours, and it was pretty fun and they were relatively successful, winning close to a thousand dollars, although that did include the round about two hundred they lost playing. And when they left, the first thing they blew that on was a bottle of champagne to take back to their room, to get experimental with.

It resulted in a lot of champagne running down their chins.

But, they did finish off the bottle with an episode of Grey’s Anatomy before bed.

They slept in the next morning. Castiel woke first, rolling over to wrap his arms around Dean and hug him to his chest until he woke about a half hour later. Castiel himself was fighting sleep again when Dean woke up and rolled onto his back, Castiel rolling away again onto his back, too, so they were now side by side.

‘Hey,’ Dean replied, a good two minutes later.

Castiel’s reply was a tired laugh at the length of the pause.

They spent a good portion of the morning in bed. They lay side by side for a while, silent, and then broke into small and fun discussions that were irrelevant and largely made no sense. Then, bored but not wanting to get up, they decided to go on Youtube on Dean’s phone for a while and watched some random amusing videos on there, the phone propped up by a lumpy mess of blankets in front of Dean, Cas with his arms around Dean from behind again watching over Dean’s shoulder.

Several more minutes of silence, and then they decided to order breakfast, which they ate in bed, Castiel answering the door for it in nothing but a robe tied only enough to avoid flashing the person who brought it.

It was a much more relaxed day than the one before it. They broke out the sofa bed around noon after they’d fooled around in bed for a while after breakfast, and turned on the TV for an entire day of binge watching Grey’s Anatomy. They were in dire waters now, it was a matter of weeks and less than a month until season twelve.

They day was uneventful. A lot of distracted makeout sessions between episodes, only pausing the episodes to use the bathroom or if their sessions got a little too heated and involved into something else, leading to a day of multiple hand jobs and blow jobs and one rim job which rather ironically came after lunch and led to a lot of teasing about dessert, which resulted in Cas whacking Dean in the face with a pillow, but that thankfully didn’t lead to a _full blown_ pillow fight … just a little one.

They ended up finishing season nine of Grey’s Anatomy that day.

‘Two more days like this, and we’ll be ready for season twelve,’ Dean grinned.

‘Then that’s what our Sunday will be,’ Castiel decided. ‘Tomorrow, you and me, season ten. There’s nothing better to do.’

‘There’s a lot of things better to do, actually,’ Dean pointed out. ‘Out there in the world. Shows to see, sighs to visit, tours to go on.’

‘But I’m not _interested_ in them,’ Castiel groaned. ‘I’m not … the tourist type. I’m the hotel room watching Netflix with my husband type when it comes to vacationing.’

‘So am I,’ Dean grinned, tucking himself into Cas’s side. ‘So more of this tomorrow, and tomorrow night we go out for dinner again?’

‘Fellini’s or the Sky Lounge. Take your pick.’

‘Fellini’s. Sounds Italian.’

‘And then Monday for breakfast we can go to Roxy’s Diner again as a farewell.’

‘What a glorious plan,’ Dean grinned at him tiredly. ‘So … one last episode before we sleep?’

‘One more,’ Castiel nodded.

Dean fell asleep half way through. Castiel turned off the television and settled down next to him, not bothering to wake him so they could transfer themselves over to the main bed. They were comfortable here, and they were together, and as long as they were together it didn’t matter if they slept in a bed made for royalty or a floor made for rats and dust.

It was an unorthodox vacation/honeymoon, when it came down to it. It had a lot of sex and when they went to Fellini’s it had their second romantic dinner of the trip, but those were the only two real honeymoon-ish aspects of it, and the only vacation aspect was when they’d walked around the city as they pleased and checked things out. The rest was basically just lazy lounging.

Oh, and getting married. They also did that.

Sunday night after dinner they bid their farewell to the tub with their third session in that, which was less frantic with the second, Dean slowly riding Cas, facing him this time, which evolved into Cas putting in slow, deep thrusts and Dean perched in his lap but he sat upright and their chests pressed together, their arms around each other, and then they lay there, cuddling close and revisiting their fantasy of the ribboned dog and their life as it evolved ahead of them until the water began to cool and they retired for their last night in the hotel bed, which seemed grander than their own despite the two being the same size.

Monday morning breakfast at Roxy’s was good as usual, although the service was a little slow, and packing up their things back in the hotel room was almost sad, even though they were going home to start a life together.

They got lunch to take on the road when they left around one. They’d checked out at noon and spent another hour wandering the city to take in the last of it before they left. They decided they would make eight hours of the drive today and stop in a motel that night, and complete the drive the next day.

Being on the road was more fun than being cooped up in a hotel, and Dean listened to music while Cas did some reading, and then Dean sang along to the music and Cas stopped to listen to him. Dean was actually good at singing when he was just singing along casually, although when he got too into it and was just singing along for the sake of singing alone, more like shouting along like one would at a concert, then it wasn’t as good. And then there were the times when Dean sang along, but it wasn’t because he was doing it just for the sake of it, it was because he enjoyed the song, and he sang the song, and embodied the song, and his voice got louder or softer along with the singer of the song, and it was like if the whole world could hear Dean sing there would be no more wars.

And then If You Want Blood (You Got It) came on and he was back to casually screaming.

And eventually, Dean convinced Cas to join him on the parts he knew, and they were both screaming, and they were both singing, and it was fun and liberating and the windows were down and the breeze was coming in and they were free on the open road.

For eight hours, until they reached Glenwood Springs, Colorado, and checked into the Frontier Lodge.

It was a quaint place to stay the night, staying in to continue season ten of Grey’s Anatomy rather than going out like they had on the way to Vegas. By now, they really just wanted to get home and flaunt their rings around proudly.

‘How are we going to tell him?’ Castiel asked, as he and Dean settled in for the night.

‘Maybe the same way we told him we’re together,’ Dean suggested mischievously. ‘Just … act married. Subtle hints. Use our hands a lot to get him to notice our rings. Talk about … married stuff.’

‘What the hell is married stuff?’

‘Okay, I don’t know. Ignore that.’

Castiel laughed. Then Dean had a bright idea and got out of bed again, grabbed his phone, and pulled the wedding DVD from one of their bags. Castiel watched him, his ass mostly, because it looked good in his tight, dark boxer briefs. And then Cas watched his hands as he took a picture of the wedding DVD, just a plain silver disc with the word “Winchesters” on it, and sent it to Sam with the caption “We have something you need to see.”

That led to a slightly worrisome few minutes in which Sam called because he thought it was something sinister, so Dean assured him it wasn’t. Once that was reassured they fell into a few minutes of idle chatter, in which they told Sam they’d be home tomorrow evening.

‘Good,’ Sam said, sounding like he was happy about it. ‘Because I have something I need to tell you when you get here.’

‘So have we,’ said Castiel. ‘But … it’s not urgent. It can wait. So can that DVD.’

And so followed Sam pouting about how he wanted to see it, but Dean and Cas told him he could wait. And finally the call ended.

‘Nice hinting,’ Castiel said sarcastically. ‘First he thinks we’re dying, now he’s desperate to watch it.’

‘Well, he won’t be watching it until he damn well figures out we’re married,’ Dean decided determinedly. ‘Hopefully it doesn’t take him as long as it did to figure out that we were together.’

‘Technically it didn’t take him a long time to figure that out,’ Castiel reminded him. ‘It just took him a long time to let us know he knew.’

‘If he does that again, I’ll fucking kill him before he even has the chance to tell us whatever he wants to tell us. Speaking of which, what do you think it is?’

‘Aroura’s moving in, probably,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘It’s to be expected, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter to me either way. She’s nice, she’s not bad to be around, she makes Sam happy. We talked about this already.’

‘After getting married,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I recall.’

‘Anyway, it’s late, and we have another eight hours of driving ahead of us tomorrow.’

Castiel nodded, laying back down after sitting up for the phone call, Dean settling in beside him. Cas put his arms around Dean as he often did when they were falling asleep, even if they didn’t stay that way all night.

‘Night,’ Castiel muttered into the back of Dean’s neck.

‘Night,’ Dean sighed back, comfortable and content already.

And in the morning after breakfast, they hit the road again, alternating between singing songs loudly and Dean listening to them quietly so Cas could read, Dean occasionally asking him to read out loud because Dean liked the sound of his voice.

It was like they entered a different world completely once the bunker was in sight that evening. Big and empty and abandoned looking, the parking lot dark and unlit, all of its cars there in their glory untouched, as if they’d never left.

Dean wasn’t sure why he had expected Sam to graciously greet them at the door when they entered, and they didn’t even run into him as they took their bags back to their room and dumped them on the bed, Castiel immediately going over to Freckles the fish and looking in at him.

‘Do you think he missed me?’ Castiel asked.

‘Who wouldn’t?’ asked Dean, walking to Cas’s side and putting his arm around him.

‘I should clean out his tank tonight,’ Castiel decided.

‘Use the spaghetti strainer to pour his stones into,’ Dean suggested, ‘and wash them out in that. So, you know, you won’t lose any and they’ll get washed.’

‘Good idea,’ Castiel grinned. ‘I might do that now, actually. Or after I eat something.’

‘I’ll go out for pizza,’ Dean offered.

‘But we just got back.’

‘So?’ Dean shrugged. ‘It’s not like anyone noticed. Come on, it’d be funny. Sam just strolls into a room to find us casually eating pizza like we never left.’

‘Evil,’ Castiel commented, ‘but that sounds fun. Okay, you go for pizza, I’ll clean out the fish.’

‘There’s disposable dish cloths in one of the cupboards you can use to wash the tank.’

‘Thank you,’ Castiel grinned, grabbing the tank, ‘husband.’

‘You’re welcome, husband.’

They left together. Dean got the door for Cas on the way out of the bedroom, and they continued to walk together until they had to go their separate ways.

The kitchen was empty when Cas reached it and he began his cleaning out of the tank. He placed Freckles in a pot of water and poured the contents of the tank, once he’d removed the toys, into the strainer and began rising off the stones at once. When he’d done that, he moved on to filling the tank half way with hot water and dish soap, grabbed a disposable dish cloth and began to wipe down the inside. He was doing this when Sam walked in.

‘Cas!’ Sam exclaimed, walking forward with his arms outstretched.

Castiel dried his hands as best he could and met Sam, allowing the unexpected hug while trying not to put his actual still wet hands on Sam’s back. They pulled apart and Sam grinned down at him.

‘Did you get taller?’ Castiel joked.

‘Nah,’ Sam shrugged. ‘I’m wearing stilettos.’

Castiel raised an eyebrow and looked Sam up and down.

‘You’d probably break the heels.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Sam laughed, heading for the fridge as Cas returned to his fish tank cleaning and emptied out the water, to rinse it out and wipe it down again to get all of the suds out. ‘So how long have you been back?’

‘Barely five minutes,’ Castiel replied. ‘I got back and decided to clean out the fish. His water looked a little cloudy.’

‘Well we’ve been keeping him fed,’ Sam promised. ‘So where’s Dean?’

Castiel paused. He put the dish cloth down and poured out the water, now ready to rinse out the tank a few times before he dried it to get the last of the suds out.

‘I came back without him,’ Castiel lied, and then spoke the truth. ‘He’s not my boyfriend anymore.’

It took Sam a moment.

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Yeah, I’m kidding. He’s getting pizza.’

He left out the fact that he wasn’t kidding about the last part.

‘Seriously?’ Sam asked. Castiel nodded. ‘So’s Aroura. We were about to have a Game of Thrones marathon. She wants to rewatch it before season six in April. You and Dean can join us if you want, Dean loves that show. Though he says the books are better, and I honestly don’t agree.’

‘I’m sure we’d love to,’ Castiel smiled, then added, ‘he’s still not my boyfriend anymore, though.’

‘You’re hilarious,’ Sam scoffed. ‘So, tell me about your trip.’

As Castiel continued his rinsing and Sam sat at the table with the smoothie he’d gotten from the fridge, Cas relayed the tale of the night he and Dean had gone out in Akron, and about the time they’d spent in the Casino and the things they’d seen on the street, from drag queens to fake Elvis. He left out all of their romantic moments such as oh, well, the whole marriage thing, and their dates at nice places like the revolving restaurant, and their meaningful conversations about everything. He did describe their hotel room in detail, though

‘You guys have sex in the tub?’ Sam asked jokingly when he heard about it, also giving the visible hickeys on Cas’s neck and what was visible on his collar bone a glance.

‘Three times,’ Castiel replied honestly.

‘Cool,’ Sam mused. ‘Aroura and I did it in a swimming pool.’

‘Impressive,’ Castiel nodded, and a jolt of excitement shot up his spine when he realized he was discussing sex casually with his friend who was now also his brother in law. His appreciation for Sam had grown more since marrying Dean, or even getting together with Dean, because Sam truly was one of his only friends, and he was most certainly his closest.

His guy friend. His buddy. His brother in law.

It was nice.

‘Dean and I spent two of our days in Vegas in bed in the sofa bed watching Grey’s Anatomy,’ said Cas, now sitting across from Sam at the table having a drink with him, while Freckles waited patiently in his now-clean tank on the counter. ‘There’s really not much to do if you’re not there to gamble and drink and if you’re not interested in tourist attractions. But we’re nearing the end season ten of Grey’s Anatomy now, which is a bonus.’

‘Almost there.’

‘Yeah. Dean says it’s not long before season twelve.’

‘No, it’s really not,’ Sam agreed. ‘Hey, you and me still need to finish watching at least the first season of Gilmore Girls we started last month. You know, the one with the guy who looks exactly like me?’

‘I recall,’ Castiel nodded. ‘We should definitely do it.’

 ‘You can get a break from Dean for a while. You and me can spend some quality friend time together,’ Sam grinned. And then his eyes went wide as Cas picked up his soda can to take a drink, Sam finally paying attention to what Cas’s hands were doing. ‘Or … brother time? Cas, is that what I think it is?’

Castiel’s smile spread slowly and turned into a huge grin.

‘Don’t tell Dean you found out so quickly,’ Castiel asked. ‘Please. I want to see him get frustrated. It’s funny when that happens.’

‘My lips are sealed,’ Sam vowed. ‘Congratulations, man. Wow. You and Dean. Married. That’s even weirder than what I wanted to tell you guys.’

‘What did you want to tell us?’ Castiel inquired.

Sam paused, looking down, but then he looked back up and he suddenly looked happier than Cas had ever seen him look.

‘I asked Aroura to marry me.’

‘What?’

‘And she said yes.’

‘Oh, my god. That’s amazing, Sam, congratulations.’

Sam laughed the laugh of a man who thought he couldn’t be happier. Cas recognized that laugh, he’d laughed it, Dean had laughed it, and then they actually had gotten happier when they got married.

‘And we plan to have the wedding soon and actually invite people,’ Sam said accusingly, ‘you know, not _elope_.’

‘We’re sorry,’ Castiel offered in the face of the accusation. ‘It was a spur of the moment thing. Neither of us even asked the other, we were just talking and came to the same conclusion and before we knew it we were leaving. We have pictures. And we have it on DVD.’

‘Oh, so that’s what that was,’ Sam realized. ‘Good. We’re watching it.’

‘As soon as you’ve allowed some time for Dean to get annoyed at you for not noticing.’

‘Yeah, as soon as that happens.’

Sam laughed, grinning, his smile like a bright light on his face. Those stupid Winchesters and their stupid smiles always shining like Christmas lights or fireworks or stars or anything else bright. Castiel supposed it was because for years they hadn’t often seen the light of day, but ow they were beginning to shine.

‘Feel like moving this to the living room? Shrek and I were hanging in there watching some TV.’

‘Let me just put Freckles back first,’ Castiel decided, downing the rest of his drink in one. ‘I’ll meet you there.’

Sam nodded and the two of them got out of their seats, both throwing their empty drink things in the trash. They paused in the middle of the kitchen and grinned at each other, Sam lightly nudging Cas’s shoulder with his fist in a friendly gesture.

But they weren’t just friends anymore. They were family, officially.

‘Later, bro,’ Sam said as he left, clicking his tongue and giving a dorky wink. Cas could see where he got that from, because he’d seen Dean to the same thing a thousand times, along with the same tongue click.

‘Bye,’ Castiel laughed as Sam left, pausing, marveling in it before adding ‘… bro.’


	38. The Ribboned Dog

Sam and Castiel were sitting in the living room and talking when Dean and Aroura both walked in holding pizzas.

‘So you found him,’ Dean grinned, striding over to Cas and plopping down next to him.

‘He found me,’ Castiel corrected. ‘He wandered in when I was cleaning Freckles and invited us to watch Game of Thrones with him and Aroura. Hi, by the way,’ he added, smiling pleasantly at Aroura who perched on Sam’s lap, putting their pizza on the coffee table next to the other one Dean had put there.

‘Hey,’ Aroura grinned, sparkling and alive with life as usual. ‘That’s funny that Sam invited you guys to do that, because I did to. I mentioned it to Dean.’

‘And I said hell yeah,’ Dean said gleefully. ‘Any excuse to revisit Westeros. Come here, brother,’ Dean decided, standing up and going over to where Sam was sitting.

Aroura dodged out of way of Dean so he could hug Sam, and Sam hugged him back a little surprised at first but when Dean pulled back and Sam saw his face he looked from Dean to Aroura while Dean sat back down.  Sam pouted.

‘She told you.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. When’s the wedding?’

Sam glared at Aroura, who smiled innocently.

‘I had to,’ she told Sam’s accusation. ‘It just … came up and I didn’t want to lie’

Sam rolled his eyes at her.

‘The date is undecided,’ Sam told Dean, answering his question, ‘but one things for sure. We’re not going to elope.’

And now it was Dean’s turn to glare at Cas.

‘He figured it out on his own,’ Castiel replied, putting his hands up defensively. ‘So ... all of the secrets are out.’

‘Guess they are,’ Dean agreed.

‘Great,’ Sam grinned. ‘Because we have a wedding to watch.’

They watched the wedding DVD while eating pizza, and Sam kept making overly dramatic comments and big ‘AWWWW’s and Aroura laughed at every single one of them, where Dean glared and Cas looked with raised eyebrows, unimpressed. But Sam stopped kidding around once it was over and gave more sincere congratulations, and so did Aroura, and now all four of them were together Sam and Aroura asked to hear the story again even though they’d each already heard it from one of them, and Dean and Cas obliged giving as much detail about the talk that led to their decision, to the decision and the trip and the stay in Vegas as possible, and in turn Sam and Aroura relayed their week with Aroura’s grandparents.

Dean found the character of uptight Francis very amusing and was almost disappointed when he found out she’d warmed completely up to Sam the second after she found out he proposed which was what she’d been hinting at Sam to do the whole time; Francis believed that any woman over the age of thirty who wasn’t married, even by a day, had ruined their life forever and so Sam was the only hope for her precious little Aroura, at which Aroura got pissed off but didn’t say anything because Sam hadn’t gotten _all_ of the hints and had been planning the proposal anyway.

It was a good hour before they got into watching Game of Thrones, an hour during which they’d covered all of the light hearted subjects, including Sam and Aroura inviting Dean and Cas to the wedding of Aroura’s friends, and avoiding heavier, more serious ones like if Sam and Aroura planned to move out or not.

Cas, the newbie in the room, liked Game of Thrones a lot, and during it Dean kept murmuring in his ear what happened in the books, and pointed out lines taken directly or almost directly from the books, and it got a little annoying so Cas moved so that Dean could no longer access his ear, resting his head on Dean’s lap instead.

They got through four episodes, and then the four of them talked some more before finally parting for bed, although Cas was reluctant to move because Shrek had been laying against him for some time now and he didn’t want to disturb him.

It was nice to be back in their own room, but nicer to be back in their own bed, even though it felt cold and stiff from their absence. The extravagance of hotels was good for a time, but nothing could beat their home, a home which they were realizing that though weird and unconventional with a dungeon and other unusual rooms, they didn’t want to leave. They could still do that whole ribboned dog thing from the bunker, and at least here they didn’t have to pay bills or taxes.

‘So it seems like what we predicted is pretty much coming true,’ Dean said thoughtfully, sliding close to Cas for warmth on the cold sheets. ‘Sam and Aroura. Doing that whole thing. Making a life.’

‘We got there first, though,’ Castiel reminded him. ‘We got married before they did, and tomorrow we get to start _our_ life.’

‘Oh yeah? And what do you propose we do?’

‘I propose we begin some intensive training. Hunter training so I can improve, remember? We talked about it.’

‘So that’s our whole future?’ Dean asked. ‘Hunting?’

‘No, Dean, of course not,’ Castiel said quietly, taking hold of Dean’s face. ‘But I still want to improve and learn, so that if something does come up, we can stop it. Or if we come across a case we can’t deny. I’m not saying we let it take over our lives, I’m just being logical in the fact that we can’t escape it, at least not permenantly. I know I could, but I know _you_ can’t.’

‘That’s true,’ Dean reasoned. ‘I see what looks like a case and I just … straight off. Hunting mode. I just don’t want that to be _all_ we do.’

‘It won’t be,’ Castiel promised. ‘We can have what you want for Sam too. We can have a life and a future I never thought it possible for me to ever want. We can have whatever you want, and I’ll want it, whatever it is.’

‘But I don’t know what I want yet.’

‘Well, then,’ Castel shrugged. ‘We can wing it.’

‘I guess,’ Dean agreed. ‘Get you trained up for whatever we might run into. Offer our help planning a wedding. Yikes – can you imagine if we’d gone down that route?’

‘No,’ Castiel replied.

‘Neither can I. What we had … that’s what I wanted. Small. Private. Perfect. Oh, and we need to tell the rest of our friends too, don’t we?’

‘We should do that,’ Castiel realized. ‘Tomorrow. At some point. Make some calls or send some texts or something.’

‘We will,’ Dean nodded. ‘I suppose Sam will want to, too. Because of him and Aroura. Maybe it’d just be easier if we visited at some point.’

‘But we just got back,’ Castiel protested.

‘I didn’t mean _now_ ,’ Dean calmed, ‘I mean at _some_ point. Or … Sam and Aroura will probably invite them to their wedding, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Well they’ll have to make calls to do that and when they show up … we can tell them our news too.’

‘That sounds reasonable.’

‘That’s me, the voice of reason,’ Dean grinned.

‘I would also like to be the voice of reason and suggest we sleep,’ Castiel added. ‘It’s been a strange few days of driving. We want to get back on some kind of normal track.’

‘Yes, I agree,’ Dean said, nodding overly-seriously in agreement to make Cas laugh. ‘Yes, dear old husband, it’s time you and I put this mundane, normal day of paying bills and arguing over who used the last of the milk to an end. Put down your book and I’ll put away my knitting. Glass of warm milk first?’

‘Oh shut up,’ Castiel muttered, sliding down into a laying position and turning his back to Dean. He heard Dean’s adorable little giggle behind him and had to turn over again to kiss him and then lay down more comfortably with Dean curled next to him.

They didn’t need to wish each other a goodnight, and fell asleep in mutual laughter.

In the morning they were all set for the weirdness to start. Last night had been good and easy, almost like a double date, but this morning with two very official and very serious couples living together in one place, things were bound to get weird …

… or so they thought, but things seemed to be perfectly normal. Sam had just come back from his jog and was sweaty and eating rabbit food with milk for breakfast before he went off to shower, and Aroura was off walking Shrek. Of course, Sam and Dean got into a fight almost straight away when Dean said, ‘so Aroura hasn’t weaned you off rabbit food yet, huh?’ and Sam got pissed and started insisting it wasn’t rabbit food, while Cas crunched toast and laughed his ass off watching Sam attempt to put Dean in a sort of headlock so Dean’s face was in Sam’s sweaty armpit.

‘Don’t you fucking laugh at me, Castiel,’ Dean snapped sternly at Cas once he’d escaped with a scrape of his dignity intact. ‘You’re my husband. You’re supposed to help me, not find pleasure in my suffering.’

‘No, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to find pleasure in your suffering,’ Castiel countered lightly. ‘Toast?’ he asked, offering Dean the last corner of his slice.

‘Eat my ass,’ Dean muttered.

‘Okay,’ Castiel replied with a sweet smile.

‘Oh, look at that,’ said Sam with a sarcastic sigh. ‘Well done, Dean. No more rabbit food because now I feel too sick to eat it.’

‘Hey, it’s a thing, Sammy,’ Dean said with a jaunty grin. ‘People lick other people’s buttholes like most folks lick a popsicle. It’s a fact of life. Get used to it.’

‘You disgust me,’ Sam declared, standing up and taking his nearly-finished bowl to the sink, ‘and you’re no better,’ he shot at Cas, pointing at him as he couldn’t wipe the toothy smile off of his radiantly shining face. ‘I, on the other hand, am far more dignified than the likes of you.’

‘We get it, Sam,’ Dean replied with a falsely annoyed sigh. ‘You chose vagina. No need to rub it in our faces – especially not Cas’s, he’s gay.’

‘Crude,’ Sam scoffed. ‘Careful, or I’ll rub my armpit in your face again. Like, dude, ugh. Talking about licking buttholes is gross.’

‘If it makes you feel better,’ Castiel chipped in, ‘we always shower first. Sometimes we do it _in_ the shower.’

‘Suddenly … I don’t want to shower,’ Sam decided on his way to the door.

‘Sam, shower,’ Dean commanded. ‘You smell like dead feet.’

‘Feet can’t die. They don’t have a consciousness of their own.’

‘Well you still fucking smell like dead feet.’

‘Okay. Fine. I’m showering.’

‘Hope you drown,’ Dean said sweetly as Sam gave him the finger on his way out.

‘You’re so mean to him,’ Castiel disapproved of him.

‘No, Cas,’ Dean corrected, ‘ _we’re_ so mean to him. We’re a real power couple, you and me.’

‘Who are you two mean to?’ asked Aroura, strolling in with Shrek right on her tail.

‘Your future husband,’ Dean replied simply, Cas distracted at once by the furry, tail-wagging sack of joy that came up to him, sniffing for scraps. ‘But he tried to suffocate me, so he deserves it.’

‘Did he do that thing where he tries to make you smell his armpit after jogging?’ Aroura asked, looking squeamish.

‘He’s done it to you?’

‘Four times.’

‘Yikes. Are you sure you want to go through with this whole marrying him thing?’

‘Yup. Pretty sure.’

Aroura gave a thoughtful, quirky little mouth movement that made her look about sixteen years younger than she was. Dean heaved a heavy, false, sigh. Castiel laughed because Shrek had jumped into his lap and was trying to lick toast crumbs from his lips.

‘Hey, back off buddy,’ Dean grumbled, ‘he’s _mine_.’

‘You two should get a dog,’ Aroura mused, pouring herself some coffee. ‘It’d be nice for you guys to still be around one if Sam and I end up … you know. Not around as much.’

Ah. So it was beginning. The talk of her and Sam leaving.

‘I’ll think about it and consider it,’ Dean said slowly.

‘I’ll look up places to get dogs right after I finish my coffee,’ Castiel decided. ‘And ribbons.’

‘Ribbons?’ Aroura asked curiously, making her way over to the table across from them.

‘Dean knows,’ Castiel said, flashing his husband the smallest of smiles.

‘But I’ll pretend I can’t tell the difference ribbon for ribbon,’ Dean smiled right back at him.

Aroura looked puzzled. Shrek stuck his nose in Cas’s coffee cup and then shook his head, spraying everyone with coffee droplets.

‘Well, I guess I’m finished,’ Castiel stated a little flatly, looking mildly surprised and amused by how Shrek had changed the course of things. ‘I think I’ll do look for a dog.’

‘Take Shrek with you,’ Aroura encouraged, ‘maybe he can help by licking the picture of the dog you should get. They’re going to be friends.’

‘Good idea,’ Castiel grinned. ‘Come on, Shrek. I need your help.’

‘Don’t let him on our damn bed,’ Dean warned.

‘And you can lay _right_ on Dean’s side of the bed.’

‘Fuck you. And as for _you_ ,’ he said, turning to Aroura sternly, ‘you do know I don’t even like dogs that much, don’t you?’

‘You do know that I can see right through your lies, don’t you?’ Aroura shot back. ‘You love dogs, Dean. Come out of the closet already. It’s twenty sixteen, no one cares if you like furry little animals jumping all over you.’

Dean downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp.

‘You’re evil,’ he decided.

‘I’ll start my killing spree soon,’ Aroura promised.

‘You do that,’ Dean said sarcastically. Aroura, tiny and innocent looking up at him sweetly like that, wouldn’t hurt a fly and he knew it. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to stop my husband from deciding he wants to buy ten dogs and a wolf or some shit like that.’

‘Good luck,’ Aroura offered, ‘and I meant it about that killing spree!’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Dean brushed off. ‘Tell it to your pet moose and see if he believes you, because I don’t.’

‘You will,’ Aroura said slyly. ‘Believe me. You will.’

Dean left with a roll of his eyes, off in Cas’s footsteps hoping he hadn’t but that damn dog on the bed yet but secretly hoping he had so he could pretend to be pissed about it and then be forced to grudgingly spend time with it and then kiss Cas and apologize and say he was right all along.

Cas had thankfully reached the bedroom, and the dog was right up against Dean’s pillows, so thankfully that little situation got to play out a Castiel scrolled through a website of people with pets advertising them to be given away. He ended up on a page of people who had dogs who had just had puppies and were giving away the puppies and began to scroll through that.

‘Look at that one,’ Castiel encouraged Dean, who was sitting with Shrek in his lap and sniffing at his chest, ‘it’s two months old and it’s so _cute_. It’s even cuter than its siblings.’

‘It’s also _two hundred dollars_ ,’ Dean pointed out. ‘Free dogs are cute too y’know, Cas. Why not go back to the ad giving away those little brown dogs? The ones with the sticky up ears?’

‘This one is cuter,’ Castiel insisted. ‘It’s a … Bichon Frise. This one is male. If you want, we can call him Derek Shepherd. Or Derek. Or Shepherd.’

‘Shepherd sounds more like a dog’s name,’ Dean nodded, then he sighed. ‘You really want that dog, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel said decidedly. ‘And he’s small too, so he won’t get in your way. It says he already has all his shots. And look – they live in Kansas. We won’t even have to leave the state to pick him up. And look at his collar. It’s purple. You like purple.’

Dean groaned. He looked from Cas to the screen to the dog on his chest which at that moment decided to whine loudly as if beginning on Cas’s behalf. Dean whined, too, as he gave in with a sigh.

‘Fine,’ he decided. ‘But you have to make the call. It’s _your_ dog.’

‘Fine,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Then I will.’

He picked up his phone and began dialing the number displayed on screen, and Dean watched with a disapproving mask that hid how happy he was that Cas was happy with this turn of events. Shrek let out a bark and Dean locked eyes with him.

‘What?’ he demanded.

Shrek cocked his head to the side in a way that reminded him of Cas and then licked Dean’s chin. Dean had to give in and sigh and start stroking that annoyingly cute little overgrown rat with a wagging tail because Aroura had been right. It had taken him a while but … Dean loved dogs.

But not as much as he loved Cas and not as much as he loved how much Cas loved dogs.

Castiel made an arrangement to meet that afternoon, and if they were lucky they’d be taking the dog home with them. Dean pretended to be pissy about it as Cas dug through their money and pulled out three hundred, the extra hundred for dog accessories and food and what not.

‘No more expressive buying things after this,’ Castiel decided. ‘You had thousands and now you barely have over one thousand.’

‘The money’s not an issue, I can win more,’ Dean shrugged. ‘It’s not like we’re going to be buying a house and paying expensive bills. And any other expensive things we buy that we don’t need to pay cash for we can just resort to the old credit card scams.’

‘Like we did for the bedroom furniture and my first clothes shop, and like Sam and I did for all the Christmas things.’

‘Exactly,’ Dean grinned wickedly. ‘We pay cash for what’s important and for things that are small and make us happy. Like a dog.’

‘Make … _us_ happy?’ Castiel asked slyly.

‘If you’re happy, I’m happy,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So did you get the dog’s address?’

‘It’s not the _dog’s_ address,’ Castiel corrected. ‘It’s the address of the man who owns the dog’s parents. And yes, it’s in Salina which is an odd name for a place in my opinion.’

‘Two hour drive if I remember right,’ Dean mused. ‘Right. So, maybe we should get going now, grab lunch there and then head over to the dog’s house – and yes I know it’s not the dog’s house, I’m saying it as if the dog owns the house to try and make you laugh.’

‘Well, you didn’t succeed,’ Castiel replied, laughing.

‘Didn’t I?’

‘Shut up,’ Castiel decided. ‘I’m going to write down the exact address so I don’t forget it. And you’re going to go to the kitchen and gather some snacks and drinks for the road.’

‘Oh, I am.’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘And who’s going to make me?’

‘Me,’ Castiel replied simply. ‘I’m your husband. It’s my job to boss you around.’

‘Fine,’ Dean muttered, as if defeated. ‘I’ll leave the furball with you and you can give him back to Aroura and your way to meet me at the car. Capiche?’

‘Yeah, I capiche,’ Castiel nodded.

Dean remembered the last, which was also the first time he’d heard Cas say those words. He was so fucking glad Cas said them so certainly and cheerfully, unlike the last, defeated sounding time. He left Cas to finding paper, which Cas quickly did and turned towards Shrek when he’d finished writing down the address.

‘Dean doesn’t mean it when he calls you “furball” you know,’ he said gently, walking over to pat the dog. ‘He just does it to sound tough. He’s not actually tough. He’s basically a dog too. A puppy, like the one we’re getting. So just ignore him.’

Shrek gave a little bark as if he knew what Cas was talking about. Castiel smiled and folded up the paper, placing it in his pocket and he jerked his head for Shrek to follow him out, which he did obediently.

Aroura was still in the kitchen, washing up everyone’s dishes from breakfast even though she didn’t have to and she didn’t technically … no, she _did_ live there. She definitely lived there. So her doing the dishes was sort of more justified by that.

‘I heard about the dog,’ Aroura grinned at him when he entered. ‘Did Shrek help at all?’

‘We had a delightfuly intellectual conversation about it,’ Castiel joked. ‘Here, just bringing him back to you.’

‘Did he shed on Dean’s pillow?’

‘No, unfortunately not.’

‘Bad dog,’ Aroura said disapprovingly, making Cas laugh. ‘Good luck. I hope you get the two hundred dollar dog.’

‘So Dean came here to whine,’ Castiel mused. ‘Interesting.’

‘More like ask a dog owner how the hell a dog can be so expensive. Don’t worry, no whining.’

‘Then I don’t have to yell at him and make him sleep on the couch,’ Castiel approved. ‘Noted. I should go. See you later.’

‘Bye-eee,’ Aroura sang as Cas left the kitchen with some difficultly because Shrek wanted to follow.

When Castiel got into the car the first thing he said was, ‘take me to the dog, husband.’

‘Yes, your highness,’ Dean replied sarcastically, starting the car and tossing the snacks for their trip at Cas. Castiel grinned and opened a bag of chips even though he’d only just had breakfast a little while ago. ‘So, back on the road again.’

‘It seems like all we do,’ Castiel commented as Dean pulled out of the parking space. ‘Drive around. Do stuff.’

‘Welcome to my world,’ Dean said with a satisfied sigh. ‘Just be glad we’re not driving around aimlessly and hunting every day. This is better. Even if we do have to get a dog.’

‘Dean, shut up,’ Castiel commanded. ‘You love dogs. You know you love dogs. So quit your pretending because it’s not going to work on me.’

‘Alright, alright,’ Dean grumbled. ‘Just know that the thing’s not sleeping in bed with us.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Dude.’

‘ _Dude_ ,’ Castiel mimicked in a childish impersonation of Dean.

‘It at least has to leave the room when we have sex.’

‘Where will it go?’

‘Uh … I don’t know.’

‘How about it has to be asleep on the other side of the room?’

‘Yeah, fine. Whatever. It’s just weird. Fucking in front of an animal.’

‘So? You’re an animal. It’d probably think it’s just watching one of its siblings.’

Dean whacked Cas lightly on the arm and Castiel laughed giddily to himself. Dean muttered some detached, annoyed words under his breath while Cas continued his smug, quiet laughter.

‘When it – why do we keep saying “it?” It’s a he – when he gets older he can have his own room. But as a puppy he should stay close,’ Castiel reasoned.

‘So how do you plan on toilet training this thing?’ Dean asked reasonably.

‘Are there like … cat litter trays but for dogs?’

‘Probably.’

‘Then I’ll figure it out with whatever there is that’s the equivalent of a litter tray.’

‘Some people use newspaper. But they probably sell special pads or mats or something in pet stores.’

‘Then newspaper will be out last resort. The news is boring anyway.’

Dean laughed at how casually Cas insulted the news. And honestly, he didn’t care how they were going to deal with this thing as long as Cas remained this relaxed and happy. Dean wanted to wrap Cas in his arms and squeeze him until he snapped in half  because he was so damn cute right now, but he’d rather not crash so he kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road as Cas turned on the radio and when he discovered there was nothing on it he picked one of Dean’s tapes at random and slipped it in, leaning back in his seat and stretching his legs out as far as they could go in front of him, casually tossing chips in his mouth as he stared out of the windshield onto the near-lifeless road. Every so often he put one to Dean’s lips and Dean ate it out of his fingers, and every so often Dean licked his fingers sloppily to piss him off, and he bit him once.

‘That’s it,’ Castiel decided after the biting incident. ‘That’s the last time I’m feeding you _anything_.’

‘Puppies bite,’ Dean pointed out slyly. ‘They bite a lot when they’re playing. How are you going to handle that if you can’t handle me biting you?’

‘You’re not a puppy,’ Castiel said grumpily. ‘You’re a big, blundering ape. And don’t listen to Shrek if he says I compared you to a puppy because that dog is a pathological liar. For example, when you left the room he told me you seemed like a nice person who doesn’t bite people. Clearly, he was being untruthful, either that or his judgement is just very off.’

‘You and this dog seem to have a lot of conversations behind my back,’ Dean said suspiciously.

‘We’re conspiring against you, actually,’ Castiel informed him. ‘We’re planning to sell you in exchange for thirty seven dogs. One for every year you’ve been alive, you see.’

‘Oh, is that so?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Well good luck finding somewhere to stick your dick when I’m not around.’

‘I can just use my hand,’ Castiel shrugged as if it didn’t bother him. ‘Not a problem.’

‘So what do you actually keep me around for, then?’

‘Something pretty to look at and flaunt when we walk around together.’

‘And if I got a horrible, face disfiguring scar? Would you just leave me on the side of a highway somewhere?’

Dean glanced at Cas expectantly and Cas considered it. And then he broke out of his casual non-Dean-needing façade and leaned to the side to kiss Dean’s cheek.

‘Of course not,’ he said quietly. ‘Even if you had eight heads and none of them growing out of your neck, I’d keep you around. Because y’know, I kinda like you.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Huh. Shocker.’

‘I know. I’m incredibly good at hiding it.’

‘Damn right you are.’

Castiel laughed and reached out a hand for Dean to take as they continued on the road, and thankfully with the remainder of the chips, there was no more biting.

Still a lot of slobbery licking though. But Cas wiped it on Dean’s jeans, so it was all good.

‘Just preparing you for the dog,’ was what Dean kept saying about it. ‘I’d lick your face, but I’m driving. Oh, and remind me to sniff your butt later.’

‘… You’re weird.’

‘Weird or not. You’re stuck with me.’

‘And I wouldn’t rather be stuck with anyone or anything else.’

Dean beamed with pride as they plowed on forward, time ticking away quickly as if being eaten by some kind of time consuming monster, and pretty soon they were arriving in Salina in driving around in search of a place to stop for lunch. They found a place that specialized in tacos, so they decided to pick it for something different to their usual with a taco each and a shared plate of nachos between them. It was a satisfying meal and the people were friendly; hopefully all of the people in Salina were so friendly, friendly enough to entrust a puppy to complete strangers.

It took a little driving around to find the house, but there were a few helpful people around who were kind enough to point them in the right direction and they were soon pulling up outside the place and Castiel took charge, Dean walking behind him as Cas rang the doorbell and greeted the man who answered, referencing the conversation they’d had on the phone and then introducing Dean, too, who smiled politely and gave some casual greeting.

‘Please, come in,’ the dog owner by the name of Keith offered. ‘It’s the male you wanted to look at, right? I’m only asking because I’ve got a couple of people interested in the last female I have left..’

‘Yes, it’s the male,’ Castiel confirmed.

‘Let me introduce you two to him,’ Keith said helpfully, leading them through the house. ‘He’s fully weaned off his mother and I’ve been keeping them separated for the last two weeks while waiting for an interested buyer. And I’ve got papers to prove he’s pedigree if you want them too. The price seems insane for a dog that’s not pedigree.’

‘Papers sound good,’ said Dean. ‘Something to whip out and show off to people. Sort of an “our dog has better genes than yours” sort of thing.’

Castiel laughed, and so did Keith, and Cas was very happy to hear Dean calling the dog “our dog”. Being interested. Being happy and pretty and cute.

‘The temptation to boast is always there,’ Keith agreed. ‘I’ll let you two spend some time with the puppy to see if you like each other while I go dig up the papers. He’s alone in there so there’s no need to worry about seeing if it’s the right one.’

Dean and Cas thanked him and then they entered the room alone.

Castiel dropped to his knees at once because hOLY FUCKING SHIT THE PUPPY PADDED RIGHT OVER TO HIM AND BEGAN CHEWING ON HIS SHOE AND THEN HE WAS JUMPING UP TRYING TO NIP AT HIS FINGERS AND DEAN HAD NEVER SEEN ANYTHING MORE ADORABLE IN HIS ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE.

‘He either likes me or hates me,’ Castiel said warily.

‘He likes you,’ Dean assured, ‘I’m sure of it. Aw, man. Look at him. He’s so white and curly. He looks like a fucking sheep. I want to rub him all over my face.’

‘I wouldn’t recommend doing that here,’ Castiel advised. ‘Come on. Get down here. Tocuh – _ow_ – him. Oh my god, Dean. He just licked me. _Dean_. Oh my god, _Dean_.’

‘I know, I s– _yikes_. I warned you puppies bite. Gah! Dude! As if my sleeve isn’t already torn enough!’

The dog barked, like tiny little “yapping” noises. Castiel looked like he was going to cry. Dean was beaming down at the puppy highly unexpectedly. The puppy went between Dean and Cas as if confused, unsure of who to jump on, putting his tiny little paws on Cas’s legs …

‘Do you think I can pick him up?’ Cas asked.

‘Sure, I guess,’ said Dean. ‘Do it. Dude, do it.’

‘Oh my god, he weighs less than my wallet does. Oh my–’

Castiel cut off because then the puppy started _licking his face_. He licked his nose over and over again and his cheeks and even around his eyes, like Cas’s face was covered in the most delicious tasting food ever invented.

‘Can I?’ asked Dean.

Cas was almost reluctant to hand the puppy over, but then he was licking Dean’s face like he was trying to eat his freckles and Cas was very glad he did because he got to witness that sight.

Keith entered the room while the puppy was licking Dean’s face ferociously, holding the papers.

‘I see he’s taken a liking to you,’ Keith commented. ‘Do you two feel the same way?’

‘Yes, yes, definitely,’ Castiel said quickly, getting to his feet.

‘I agree,’ Dean added, putting the puppy down and standing up only to have the puppy start chewing on the end of his jeans almost violently.

‘He’s yours for the two hundred,’ Keith offered. ‘Including papers and the food I’ve been feeding him, wet and dry. I’ll even throw in a few puppy pads. He’s trained to recognize the pads to use as a bathroom, but he’s a little fussy about where you place them. I wish I could part with the bed and the dishes, but I’ll need them. I’ve got another batch of puppies on the way soon from my pug.’

‘We’ll take him,’ Dean said decidedly, stealing Cas’s line. ‘Cas, pay the man. But keep enough to buy me some new jeans after this guy is done with them.’

‘Buy your own jeans,’ Castiel said curtly, pulling out two hundred and handing it over to Keith, who in exchange handed over the papers.

‘Excellent,’ Keith replied. ‘Pick him up and follow me and I’ll grab the food and put it in a plastic carrier bag for you. Oh, and there’s a leash too – it matches the collar. He’s not trained to walk on it yet, so that’ll be a fun job and bonding experience. Got any names yet?’

‘Shepherd,’ said Cas, who had picked up the puppy and begun to follow Keith out, Dean behind them.

‘After the brutally and unnecessarily killed-off Derek Shepherd,’ Dean added.

‘Grey’s Anatomy, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That episode came as a real shock to me,’ Keith said with a sigh. ‘The show will never be the same again.’

‘Right? Damn, I’m glad this puppy is coming from a sensible home.’

That got a laugh out of Keith, and the three exchanged some casual small talk about the show until Dean and Cas left, back in the car, puppy on Cas’s lap, quiet and secure.

‘Can I borrow him a sec?’ asked Dean, pulling out his phone as he asked.

‘… Nice wording, but sure. What are you doing?’

‘You’ll see.’

Dean turned on his front camera and held Shepherd the puppy right up to his face and pulled the most ridiculous “blue steel” face in the world. He placed the puppy on his lap while he sent that picture to Sam captioned “pet sheep” which Cas rolled his eyes at while he took the puppy back.

‘Just take us to a pet store,’ Castiel muttered. ‘We’ll need to stock up on this food and get a bed and toys and more of these pads things.’

‘First priority,’ Dean decided, ‘chew toys.’

As if on cue, Shepherd started chewing on Cas’s finger. It pinched a little, and was even more slobbery than Dean had been earlier when eating the chips.

‘A vast assortment seems to be needed,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Although I don’t object to him chewing on my fingers.’

‘You objected to _me_ chewing on your fingers.’

‘Take a look in the mirror, Dean. You’re not a puppy.’

‘But Shrek might lie to me about you comparing me to one,’ Dean shot at Cas in reference to their conversation from earlier.

‘Yes, and as I said. He’s a pathological liar.’

‘Are you talking about the dog, or you?’

‘A little bit of both, Dean,’ Castiel replied mysteriously. ‘A little bit of both.’

Dean laughed as he spotted a pet store he began to veer towards up the street. Castiel stared at Dean’s face, smiling at how relaxed and pretty and goofy he was, then looked down at the puppy. _Their_ puppy. Castiel was man with a husband and a puppy when just a few months ago he’d been an angel with a trench coat and no purpose.

‘Do you think we can bring him into the pet store?’ Castiel asked, looking at Dean worriedly.

‘Well, he’s a pet,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So I’m gonna say yes. And if they try to kick him out I can stay outside with him and you can buy whatever you want to buy for him.’

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay with him on your own?’ Castiel asked cautiously. ‘Because, you know, you don’t like dogs.’

‘I love dogs,’ said Dean.

‘So you’re able to admit it now?’

‘Yes. Because that damn dog … he changed me, man. Look at him. _Look_ at him.’

‘I’m holding him, Dean.’

‘And doesn’t he make you just … feel things?’

‘That question worries me.’

‘It’s hard to explain,’ Dean grumbled. ‘But I love that dog, Cas. I _love_ that _dog_.’

‘Yes, Dean. You’ve made that abundantly clear.’

Castiel undid his seatbelt as Dean pulled into a parking space and got out first when the car had stopped. It was excellent timing, because as soon as Dean was out of the car Sam replied to his text with “nice sheep” so it was good that he didn’t have to check that while driving.

‘Alright,’ Dean proclaimed, ‘let’s get some sheep food.’

Cas laughed as he followed Dean into the store, still very much worried and hoping dogs were allowed inside.

Dogs were very much allowed inside.

They were stopped by practically everyone in there for them too coo over Shepherd and ask questions about him while Dean and Cas attempted to shop. For some reason they all seemed to find it incredibly cute that they’d only gotten him today and he already seemed so attached, sitting quietly in Cas’s arms and cuddling up to his chest, the arms he was in secure and locked together even though he was so small that Cas could have just carried him around by the middle in one hand.

Since his collar was already purple, they got him a purple bed and purple food and drink bowls. They got several portions of each food and several packs of puppy pads and a whole bunch of small toys for chewing on. Ones that squeaked, ones that didn’t, small ropes, and they got a grooming brush because his fur was in loose curls now, but when it grew it would be tighter and more difficult to keep knot-free. The store even did ribbons; they got those in purple too.

While in the store they also picked up a treat for Freckles, a new thing to put in his tank for him to swim around while aimlessly opening and closing his cute fishy mouth.

They left the store with a bag of things on one of Dean’s hands and the squishy, cushioned bed in the other, and Shepherd in Cas’s arms with what was most likely a considerable ego boost after everyone fawning over him in there. And then they set off on the two hour drive home, Cas having decided to sit in the back seat to give him and the dog more room.

‘Y’know, once upon a time I had a no dogs in the car rule and right now I don’t even care if that thing pees in here because I know it can be cleaned easily,’ Dean called back to Cas who was holding one side of a squeaky toy Shepherd was chewing on.

‘You’ve changed, Dean,’ Castiel replied. ‘You’ve changed a _lot_.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Dean agreed. ‘Don’t tell Sam about how nice I am now. Make him think I bitched and moaned the whole way home and kept calling the dog a sheep unironically.’

‘Tell him yourself,’ Castiel said curtly. ‘I’m not going to lie for you. _Ouch_. My finger is not a rubber chicken leg, Shepherd!’

‘That’s what you get for refusing to lie for your husband,’ Dean said smugly, laughing at Cas’s minor injury that probably barely even stung for more than a second.

‘If you keep laughing at me I’ll make you stop over and get water and make him drink it all so he pees,’ Castiel warned. ‘And if I’m lucky, it will be while I’m holding him over your _head_.’

‘I love you, Cas,’ Dean said sweetly.

‘That’s what I thought,’ Castiel replied sternly.

While Shepherd was taking a break from playing with his new toys, Cas got out the purple ribbons and picked some locks of fur near his ears to tie them around in neat, loose bows, not so loose that they’d fall off, yet still not tight enough to be troublesome to remove.

‘There,’ Castiel announced proudly. ‘We have a ribboned dog, Dean.’

‘Now all we need to do is hunt down some poltergeisteous cats,’ Dean grinned at him, looking at him in the mirror.

‘And get old ladies to pay you for getting rid of those poltergeisteous cats so you can build up your savings again’

‘Or get old ladies to pay _us_ so _we_ can build up _our_ savings again.’

‘Or that,’ Castiel agreed.

Shepherd barked. It was the cutest fucking bark any dog had ever barked.

‘I agree,’ Castiel told Shepherd very seriously.

Shepherd padded forward and put his front paws on Cas’s leg, looking up at him eagerly. When Cas tried to pet him, he went into biting mode again, jumping whenever Cas lifted his hand. So Cas rubbed him tail to head to piss him off, then ran his hand back down over him to smooth his fur again, then picked him up to hold in front of his face. As a result, he got his nose licked for a while until Shepherd’s fur was tickling his face too much for him to let it continue.

By the end of the journey, Cas was flat on his back in the back seat, knees up and legs bent due to having no more room, and Shepherd was asleep on his chest. Even when Dean stopped the car and opened the backseat door so Cas’s legs flopped out, Cas stayed still, reluctant to move.

‘He’ll wake up if I sit up,’ Castiel whined.

Dean rolled his eyes and got the dog’s bed from the front seat, put it on Cas’s stomach and gently picked up Shepherd and put him into it. He then picked up the bed where Shepherd was now continuing to sleep and backed away so Cas could slide out and grab the rest of the dog things from the front seat.

‘I like how you seemed to change your thought process on this whole getting a dog thing pretty much as soon as you saw Shepherd,’ Castiel commented as they walked across the parking lot together. ‘It was almost comical. You went from a hardened grudging dog-liker to someone who looks as though they would buy a thousand puppies and hand raise them all.’

‘When I think of dogs I think they’re just … pretty cool,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Cute sometimes. Shrek can be cute. But then there was Shepherd and he’s just this tiny little innocent puppy jumping up and down and he just … he’s like an infection I can’t stop from spreading. _Look_ at him, Cas.’

‘I saw him,’ Castiel stressed. ‘I picked him, Dean. I’m the reason we have this specific puppy. So you’re welcome.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ve already said it but I’ll say it again. You’re welcome.’

‘PUPPY!’ came a sudden shout, and Sam was suddenly in front of them blocking their path as they made their way through the bunker to their room. ‘Puppy. Puppy!’

‘Oh, great, Sam. You woke him up,’ Dean muttered.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ said Sam, sounding very much like he was. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Shepherd.’

‘As in Derek?’

‘Hey, Cas chose it!’ Dean defended himself.

‘I suggested it as a name so Dean would be more open to the idea of getting him in the first place,’ Cas pointed out. ‘And now he’s like in love with him or something so I think it worked.’

‘So, just like the real Derek Shepherd then?’

‘Pretty much,’ Cas confirmed.

‘I’m not in love with the dog,’ Dean huffed. ‘Uh, I mean sheep.’

‘So how old is he?’ Sam asked.

‘Two months,’ said Cas. He hooked the carrier bag around one wrist so he had his hands free to pick Shepherd up and hold him close to his chest. ‘We bought him a bunch of toys and he has papers confirming he’s pedigree and everything. I can show you if you want.’

‘Papers? Seriously? Damn right I want to see those. Come on, me and Aroura are hanging out in the living room with Shrek and watching Netflix. You can join us if you want – you too, Dean,’ Sam called back to Dean who was walking a few steps behind them lamely carrying the puppy bed.

‘Oh how nice of you to think of me,’ Dean said sarcastically.

‘We were thinking of continuing our Game of Thrones rewatch tonight,’ Sam added, ignoring Dean’s comment. ‘Aroura was going to go grab us some food from somewhere. Not pizza. She was going to go a little father because you know … what she can do.’

‘I’ll eat anything,’ said Cas. ‘I haven’t eaten since lunch. But what about Shepherd? We’d need to put down water and a pad … just in case … for … y’know.’

‘Put it behind the couch,’ Sam suggested. ‘Or beside one of the chairs. He’ll find it. So, Dean? Are you in too?’

‘Oh, I’m in,’ Dean said enthusiastically. ‘But here’s something that’s bugging me, Sammy. Aren’t you a health nut? What’s she going to order you, a salad or some shit like that?’

‘Aroura hates salad,’ Sam shrugged. ‘She can eat like, ten pizzas in one sitting and she won’t even gain weight. So she convinced me to go rouge for this week because last week we ate all the weird stuff her grandparents’ chef made.’

‘Good for you,’ Dean grinned. ‘We’ll have you converted into a normal human being in no time. Right Cas?’

‘Right,’ Castiel agreed with a wicked grin. ‘Aroura seems to be good for you, Sam. For all of us. She’s the one who suggested we get a dog of our own.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Aroura, who’d heard, as Cas said it just as they were entering the living room where Aroura was lounging in one chair with Shrek on her lap. ‘Now show me the dog. Or sheep, as Dean texted.’

‘Aroura, feel his head,’ Sam suggested, as he’d been stroking him in Cas’s arms almost the entire walk to the room. ‘He’s so soft. He’s so _small_.’

Shrek stuck his head up and started sniffing the air curiously. He barked, and when he got no response he barked again. He waited, and then Shepherd stretched forward in Cas’s arms and yapped. Shrek jumped to the floor and started jumping up at Cas, so Cas tenderly placed Shepherd on the ground and Shrek licked his head. Shepherd yapped again and began trying to nip at Shrek’s legs, and then they were jumping around on top of each other and nibbling each other and there was no stopping them.

It was a good evening full of on-screen death and off-screen dog. The four of them had food and Shrek and Shepherd played together and then lay together, and they both played with toys and Shepherd used his puppy pad once and ate some dry food. He was fed wet food when Dean and Cas were going to bed and Cas strategically set up several objects of varying heights next to the bed so Shepherd could use them as stairs and climb down to the pad or the water they’d set up at the end of the bed in the night if he needed to.

Dean and Cas enjoyed being next to each other, but just for the first night they had Shepherd _between_ them and he was asleep before they were, his ribbons off and on Cas’s bedside table. They barely bothered to comprehend the fact that everything they’d wished for themselves was coming true, because at this point, was it even surprising that they were finally getting the happy ending they deserved at last?


	39. Sam Gets Married

A yapping dog was much better than an alarm clock, and much cuter too, especially when it roamed up and down the spacious bed sniffing and biting at anything he thought might help awaken the sleeping giants from their slumber. Faces were licked and fingers bitten and covers shaken by a tiny mouth, gripped between teeth so small they were practically non-existent.

Dean woke first and grabbed the puppy, lifting him up in the air over his face, looking up into those beady brown eyes, full of innocence and adorableness. They looked a little guilty for causing him to wake, but like they were begging for forgiveness. The perfect puppy dog eye look. This dog was the only creature who had that down better than Cas did.

‘Hey, Cas,’ Dean aid groggily when he noticed Cas was awake, ‘deal with the sheep.’

And he put the dog on Cas’s face.

And the dog _lay down_.

Castiel picked him up and held him the way Dean had just been holding him, sighing as he gazed up at him.

‘Don’t lay there,’ Castiel scolded. ‘I’ll suffocate and die. You don’t want me to die, do you?’

Silence. Castiel sighed and sat up in bed, bringing the dog down to cradle into his chest, where the dog was now still and remaining silent. Dean glanced over at Cas as he too forced himself up into a sitting position and reached to scratch the dog between the ears, but being forced to pull his hand back due to extreme biting attempts.

‘I think he’s hungry,’ Dean commented. ‘By the way: Morning. You look pretty this morning.’

‘I look pretty every morning,’ Castiel replied curtly, stroking Shepherd and allowing him to bite his fingers.

‘Okay, fair point,’ Dean agreed. ‘I don’t know how pretty you’d look without fingers, though,’ he warned.

‘Shut up and feed the dog, Dean,’ Castiel instructed.

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes at Cas, but otherwise he didn’t complain as he went to the end of the bed where they’d set up the food and drink for the puppy, and while he was down there and Cas securely safe in bed with Shepherd, started tittering to himself for an unexplained reason. Then he stood up looking smug.

‘Right. I fed him, now you have to change his pad.’

‘Okay, fair,’ Castiel nodded reasonably, swinging his legs out of bed and planting his feed squarely on the ground, puppy still in arms. And then he changed his attitude rapidly. ‘Unfair.’

It was a very good thing that Shepherd was able to get down to his pad, because he’d used it, alright. He’d used it a _lot_. For things less pleasant than their main liquid-absorbing purpose.

‘Tomorrow we swap,’ Dean reasoned. ‘You feed, I change the pad. Deal?’

‘Or … you could do both every day, and I could go take a shower and avoid that until it’s gone.’

‘Or how about … we don’t do that. Come on. Roll it up, I’ll go get you a plastic bag to put it in. And don’t use the excuse “I’m holding the dog” because you need to put him down so he can eat anyway.’

‘Fine,’ Castiel muttered grudgingly, through gritted teeth. ‘If I _die_ , it’ll be your fault. And feed the fish.’

‘Feeding the fish,’ Dean vowed, going over to do so on his way out to go get a bag, thinking that they should really keep a roll of plastic bags in their room. And probably some gloves for worse instances that may arise in the future. But of course, he didn’t leave before he watched Cas pick up the pad and roll it around the obscenity in the middle of it, all at arms distance with his head cocked away for good measure.

‘Go get me the bag,’ Castiel moaned, ‘and _hurry up_.’

‘I’m going, I’m going,’ Dean replied with a wicked laugh, ‘and don’t blame me for this. You’re the one who wanted a dog.’

‘ _Go_ ,’ Castiel begged desperately, holding the bundle of gross ass pad at arms length and looking at that cute, adorable little white thing eating and wondering how it could do something so disgusting.

After a moment, he realized that last night Shepherd had fallen asleep between him and Dean, and that he must have gotten down, seen his bed, surpassed it and gotten back up between them in the night, and then he crouched down to stroke the eating puppy because that was just the most adorable thing he’d ever heard.

Move over Dean, there’s a new cutie in town.

Dean returned with the bag and Castiel shoved the pad straight in and let Dean tie it while he set out a new pad and then gazed fondly at the puppy again.

‘Set up some toy for him and then bring me clothes,’ Castiel instructed. ‘I’m going to wash my hands and shower. You can join me when you get rid of _that_.’

He pointed at the bag and then left without another glance, hands held uncomfortably at his sides and a little away from his body. He clearly wanted to wash them and it made Dean laugh to think about, because somehow Cas’s repulsion was so damn cute. He looked down at the thing it was caused by and bent to pet him, offering a ‘good dog’ before he left to throw away the bag.

He joined Castiel in the bathroom with clothes and stepped into the shower, slipping his arms around Cas from behind and pressing his lips to the back of his neck – bad idea, it was shampoo-ey and tasted terrible, and so their first day of parenthood began. 

This damn puppy just didn’t want to learn how to walk on a leash. Outside he went where he pleased as if there were no leash on him at all, sniffing at this and that and whatever and Dean and Cas just went along with him and half the time when they wanted him to turn a certain way they had to literally pick him up, walk a few steps and put him down on the ground again, and they spent a good hour freezing their balls off trying to get that god damn dog to obey them and by the end they were making slight progress but they were still far from having him trained.

Shepherd also liked to chew everything from shoes to books. Cas was reading at one point and he came up beside him and started chewing on the end of the book, and then Sam was reading and he went to chew on the end of _that_ book, and then he went over to Aroura and she picked him up and he started chewing on her hair making her need to tie it up so he wouldn’t go all cat-like and start choking on a hairball, but none of them cared about the chewing thing because he was just so damn cute and he wandered the bunker as he pleased, closely followed by either Dean or Cas, and he went from lap to lap when two or more people were in a room together.

Dean and Cas spent a half hour in the training room getting Cas better acquainted with types of guns while Shepherd slept in his bed on their bed in their bedroom. Cas was a good shot, but he wasn’t used to all of the different types of guns, so he took time to get used to those, how to hold them and shoot them and load them, and by the end he was pretty knowledgeable about it, and so they went back to find Shepherd on the edge of their bad, yapping and whimpering because he was alone, and Cas rushed right over and hugged him close and he licked Cas’s face and it was the cutest thing Dean had ever seen so he went over to join them in playing on the bed for a while, and didn’t complain about dog smell or hair or whatever else even once.

Dean and Cas stayed in for lunch and Dean whipped up something quick, where Sam and Aroura went out. Shepherd tottered around the kitchen and Shrek begged for scraps and Shepherd sat patiently on the floor while they ate while Shrek jumped up at them, sniffing and being fed little pieces of this and that that Shepherd wasn’t allowed because he was too young and his stomach was too sensitive for it.

When Sam and Aroura came back, it turned out that they were about to start planning their wedding, and so that begun.

The next several days were spent in the bunker, dealing with the puppy and chipping in on Sam and Aroura’s wedding plans. It would be a small simple ceremony in just a few weeks, maybe less, and invites were done over the phone on Sam’s side, properly with paper and envelopes organized by her grandparents on Aroura’s. Dean and Cas went out on the next Friday night and left Shepherd with the busily planning couple, and they grabbed a meal and some drinks and played some cards with some people winning money in the process. They’d taken a cab from a ten minute walk from the bunker out to the nearest bar, and so they took a cab back to the place they’d taken one from and walked the ten minutes back to the bunker, arms around each other happily sauntering, pleased with the almost three hundred dollars they’d gotten.

It was an extremely different atmosphere at the bunker than there had ever been before. No one was hunting and no weird crap was going on, it was all Grey’s Anatomy and Game of Thrones and warm fires and dogs and wedding planning, and Sam and Aroura zipping off during the day to who knew where to organize this and that and whatever.

Dean spent a lot of time brushing Shepherd because he liked doing it and Shepherd seemed to enjoy it too, and Cas sent a lot of pictures of Shepherd to Claire who freaked out over every single one of them because although she didn’t seem the type, she loved dogs, and one day she aspired to own a poodle. Cas promised to take Shepherd to the wedding they’d all be at and that satisfied Claire.

So, the wedding would be taking place at the house of Aroura’s grandparents, out in their spacious garden where there was a gazebo and lots of hedges and lots of flowers, and the reception would be taking place both in the house and out back of the house on the patio, which was near the pool, and the pool house would be used as the groom’s station, the upstairs of the house as the bride’s. The outdoor reception area was separated from the garden by a fence with a gate, which would make travel between places easy throughout the day.

Dean and Cas were going to wear their suits they’d worn to their own wedding, which was convenient for them, and that made watching Sam freak out about having to wear a tux even funnier. He was making daily afternoon trips with Aroura to meet with her grandmother’s personal stylist, a strange woman by the name of Draca who hated when you pronounced her name _Drah_ -kah over Dray-ka and according to Sam she always wore a cape and wore a ring on every finger.

‘A cape, huh?’ Dean asked, munching on some (homemade – an achievement he was very proud of) pizza as he and Cas watched Grey’s Anatomy in the living room, Shepherd sleeping between them. ‘You sure she’s not a vampire, man?’

‘Vampire’s don’t wear capes, Dean,’ Sam scoffed. ‘You should know that. You kill them.’

‘Dracula wore a cape,’ Castiel pointed out. ‘It’s in every depiction of him I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of stuff. I’ve seen all of history, if you remember.’

‘Draca … Dracula … Sammy, I think Cas is on to something here.’

‘If Draca is Dracula, then how does she always have that glittery makeup on?’ Sam challenged, sitting down with his arms folded and snatching a slice of homemade pizza from Dean’s plate. ‘Dracula can’t see his own reflection.’

‘I never said she was Dracula,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘That’s true, he never said that,’ Dean agreed. ‘Maybe they’re twins. And they always look so good because the groom each other. What color makeup?’

‘Glittery purple eyeshadow today and wet looking red lipstick,’ said Sam. ‘And her eyeshadow always matches her cape.’

‘I can’t wait to see what kind of cape she puts you in,’ Dean mused fondly, looking at the screen rather than at Sam. ‘I’m thinking a nice green. Bring out the green in your eyes, y’know. They’ll never be a contender for winning up against _my_ eyes, but they still need all the help they can get.’

‘Dean, you’re not invited to the wedding,’ Sam decided.

‘Great!’ Dean grinned. ‘That means I get to stay in all day and watch TV. Have fun. Make sure the ring fits so it doesn’t get stuck on your fingers until it swells up like a sausage and explodes.’

‘Speaking of fingers,’ said Sam, holding up his middle one.

‘Dude, there’s a puppy _right there_ ,’ Dean disapproved, pointing at Shepherd. ‘He’s too young to see that crap.’

‘Compared to the hardcore gay porn he probably sees every night in your room?’ Sam challenged.

‘Hey, we have a blanket,’ Castiel protested as he chomped on his pizza. ‘And we use it. Most of the time.’

‘I feel sorry for him,’ Sam offered insincerely, looking at the innocent ball of furry white stuff.

‘And I feel sorry for you, for the face you have,’ Dean replied, extremely sincerely.

‘Jerk,’ Sam grunted.

‘Bitch,’ Dean retorted.

‘You guys still do that?’ Castiel asked with a weary frown.

Dean rolled his eyes at Cas’s reaction but said nothing, keeping his eyes on the TV.

The clothing wasn’t the only thing Sam complained about. Apparently there was a lot more to planning a wedding than he’d thought – his first wedding having been an impromptu Vegas thing he was love-potioned into by a probably clinically insane weirdo with an annoying voice and a tendency to ship incest.

‘You should’ve eloped,’ said Dean.

‘I would have,’ Sam said seriously. ‘Aroura probably would have, too. It’s her family that wouldn’t allow it. So, get this …’

And off went another bout of complaining.

The weirdest thing about the entire thing was that they wanted Shrek to be ring bearer. A friend of Aroura’s who was handy with tools was literally fashioning a dog saddle to settle the ring box on as Shrek trotted up the aisle. That’s what was going on the day Dean and Cas first had to go to the house to check it out and meet Aroura’s grandparents, and it was … incredibly weird and amusing to watch.

‘Fifty bucks says the dog bites him by the end of the day,’ said MJZ, a friend of Aroura’s and a brother to the saddle-creator, as he watched from afar with Dean, Cas and his girlfriend. MJZ and his girlfriend, Jess, were both helping with some preparations. MJZ organized entertainment at a bar and so he was doing the same for the wedding, and Jess’s mother was the assistant of Draca. Draca was all over Sam somewhere upstairs, now discussing the horrifying possibility of gloves and tails.

‘You’re on,’ Dean agreed, shaking hands to seal the deal with the man who was still basically a stranger with hair almost as long as Sam’s.

‘I’m going to go and see what Norman is doing with Shepherd,’ Castiel decided, wandering off, having let Aroura’s grandfather spend some time with the puppy; he loved puppies, but his wife would never let him get one of his own and he’d been very vocal about that complaint. So Castiel was happy to oblige in lending his puppy to the friendly man with the very scary wife.

For a while, Dean found himself wondering how he’d ended up near this big ass house with these people watching this ridiculousness go down, when just weeks ago he was dealing with Lucifer and The Darkness and he’d even dealt with the death of literal God. It was so weird. He was still coming to grasps with how different things were and he knew he harped on about it to himself a lot but it was all … just … so … yeah. Different. Like, a few months ago he’d be having lunch in some greasy diner, and now he was having it in a big and expensive looking dining room surrounded by near-strangers and he was discussing the funny things witnessed in leading up to the success of getting the saddle on Shrek and the ring in place for a practice run.

‘That’s one well-trained dog,’ Dean found himself saying. ‘I wish ours was as trained as him.’

‘I think yours seems to be very well behaved,’ Norman countered. ‘He’s been quiet with me all day.’

‘You don’t have to live with him,’ Dean pointed out.

‘Very true,’ Norman agreed.

‘Well I for one think living with a dog would be just _lovely_ ,’ Francis chipped in, beaming around the room in what felt like a radiating sweep.

Norman raised an eyebrow. Those who knew her cast some suspicious looks. Nothing more was said.

‘My grandma was weirdly accepting of you two,’ Aroura commented as they left in the late afternoon, set to go to a bar owned by her friend Peter. ‘If anyone else walked around here dressed like that … with the exception of my friend Scotty, she’s used to him.’

‘Yeah, I figured by how Sam’s been dressing to match his nerdy personality,’ said Dean, shooting a glance at Sam’s neat and tidy outfit.

‘It’s lucky that Dean and I don’t need to make a good impression on your grandmother,’ Castiel said with the smallest of laughs. ‘Not that she doesn’t seem delightful.’

‘Delight … come on Cas, you can finish that sentence. Delight … - _fully_ terrifying.’

‘Only when she was screaming at the gardener,’ Castiel reasoned.

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Aroura agreed. ‘Do any of you even know what language that was? I can’t figure it out.’

‘Portuguese,’ said Sam. ‘I knew some Brazilian girls in college who spoke Portuguese.’

‘You knew some Brazilian girls in college and I’m only hearing about this _now_?’ Dean asked, his eyebrows raised in what looked like surprise with a hint of betrayal. ‘Were they hot? Do tell, Sam. Do tell.’

Castiel elbowed Dean in the ribs. Dean winced. Sam rolled his eye, but revealed the information upon command.

The conversation took them on the walk to the bar, and for the first time that day neither Dean not Cas found themselves questioning their new sort of … life, they guessed. Social and chatty and … _normal_. Hadn’t normal been what Dean had always secretly wanted, and what Sam had not-so-secretly wanted? Yet normal felt so … weird, at times. For Cas especially, but he’d adapted to it, like he’d had to adapt to most things. He was getting faster at adapting, and now he never even commented on it, and Dean never commented on Cas’s adaption either, just casually watched and admired.

The evening was spent at the bar interacting with people who were suddenly a temporary part of their lives now – albeit likely a more permanent part of Sam’s, since they were Aroura’s friends and he was marrying Aroura.

The wedding was on – wait for it, the most cliché and cringy thing – Valentines Day.  It was three days after the premiere of the second half of Grey’s Anatomy season twelve, which Dean and Cas did in fact watch and manage to see with Cas having caught up on everything before it, so there were two joyous occasions to celebrate within the same block of just a few days.

The wedding was … yeah. It was a wedding. Big, typical white wedding with flowers and a wedding dress that looked like it cost about the same amount as the house. Earlier in the week Dean was asked to be best man and he performed those duties gracefully, although he did continue to complain about there being no bachelor party for him to organize.

‘Shut up, Dean,’ Sam said repeatedly, and so he did, though grudgingly.

Shrek played his part in the wedding well, and then he and Shepherd played together at the reception, surrounded by people passing by to admire the dogs, a group which included the crowd from Christmas and New Year’s, all of whom were extremely annoyed that Dean and Cas had waited so long to tell them about their own wedding.

‘We’re sorry,’ Castiel insisted. ‘Really. It’s all his fault, blame him.’

‘It’s _his_ fault,’ Dean corrected him. ‘Look at him, he’s new at this human thing so he’s new at having the human decency to tell his friends about getting married and I just went along with it because I was afraid he’d leave me.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Castiel stated.

‘ _You’re_ ridiculous,’ Dean retorted.

‘You’re _both_ ridiculous,’ Jody told them sternly. ‘Next time you get married, you tell me. You tell all of us. Deal?’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ Dean muttered, breaking under her stern tone, while Cas tried not to chuckle at Dean’s defeat and Jody’s “next time” quip.

‘I’m keeping this dog,’ said Claire, completely off topic.

‘Not if I keep him first,’ said Donna, scratching Shepherd’s stomach as he rolled onto his back, jaws snapping.

Alex watched on with her eyebrows raised, not the biggest fan of dogs, while Jody continued to give Dean and Cas a stern look, and then she began lecturing Dean on how much better Sam was at getting married, starting with the fact ‘first of all, he actually _told people_.’ Castiel managed to escape and go seek out some drinks while Dean stood and took the lecture, looking genuinely terrified, while Claire and Alex tried not to laugh and Donna watched in mild amusement and slight fear as Jody was being a little too stern for her taste too.

The reception was more enjoyable than the ceremony once the lecture was over, and there was a buffet of an array of different foods and no set seating, apart from the head table which had the bride and groom, best man and husband of the best man, maid of honor and fiancé of made of honor and lastly, grandparents of the bride. And the speeches that were obligatory were thankfully short, Dean keeping his to making fun of the nerdy things Sam often did and rounding it up to a happy ending with congratulations, adding that he never actually expected Sam to end up married.

‘Thanks for your support,’ Sam replied sarcastically, making the hundred or so strangers laugh.

Sam spent a lot of the reception trailing around garden and house after Aroura, meeting strangers and making small talk. Dean, Cas and the rest of the estranged gang spent aa lot of it hovering near the pool hose and talking to anyone who swung by that way, but mostly keeping to themselves, occasionally interacting with people Dean and Cas had met the few times they’d been forced to stop by the house before the wedding.

Sam joined them by the pool house a few times and he seemed to be in higher spirits than they’d ever seen him and it was … nice. It was all very, very nice, and for Dean and Cas it was unfamiliar, and it was even unfamiliar for Sam, but none of them complained, and celebrations lasted well into the night as it began to grow dark and cold, so everyone retreated inside.

‘So, you two heading off anywhere or …?’ Dean asked, when he finally got a few moments with Sam alone.

‘We’re going on a week-long trip around the world, actually,’ Sam commented. ‘We’re even bringing the dog.’

‘So that’s what you decided on?’ Dean asked. He’d heard Sam and Aroura throwing around honeymoon ideas before, that being one of them.

‘Yeah,’ Sam nodded. ‘We’re starting with Europe. On two of the days we’re hitting three cities a day and staying in one overnight. And the best part, no flying, so no crowded planes and weird airline smell.’

‘Well have fun, man,’ Dean offered. ‘You deserve it. I promise I won’t do anything weird to your room while you’re away.’

‘I appreciate that.’

‘You should. Because clearly I’m lying.’

Sam attempted a playful punch at Dean’s shoulder, but Dean dodged out of the way so Sam laughed as Dean wandered off, and an old woman wandered over to Sam, probably a distant family member of Aroura’s.

That night once everyone had left, final goodbyes were said and then Aroura zapped Dean and Cas and Shepherd home. She and Sam and Shrek stayed only for a few minutes to grab their bags and say a proper goodbye, and then they were gone and Dean and Cas were alone with their dog and the bunker seemed empty and walking around it in suits was weird, but getting out of those suits felt good as they changed into shirts and sweats, to change out of once they reached the bathroom to shower away the stench of the day, food and dogs and nature and strangers and minor amounts of alcohol yet enough to get them both tipsy.

‘So Sam’s married,’ Dean said with a sigh as the hot water graced his skin. ‘That’s so weird. That’s weirder than us being married. Sam. _Married_.’

‘I’m still finding it difficult to grasp the concept of the fact that this … this is what our lives are,’ Castiel frowned, leaning against the shower wall. ‘Trying to solve the world’s supernatural problems is all I’ve known for so long and I know I’ve said it before but … I didn’t expect this. Looking back I barely recognize my life now, and still find it odd to be using the words “my life” and all the more odd to upgrade those words to “our lives” which is very much warranted.’

‘It’s weird’ Dean muttered. ‘I used to wake up every day knowing what I was going to do. Research, which sucked. Look for a case, which sometimes sucked. Work a case. Get back on track with whatever weird ass issue we were dealing with at the time. But now I wake up and I just … have this morning routine with dogs and showers and breakfast, and then I don’t even know. I’m used to it but I’m not used to being used to it.’

‘It’s an old routine yet we forget that it’s blatantly new,’ Castiel said, bringing it down to the basics.

‘I feel like we talk about it too much,’ Dean admitted.

‘Me too,’ Castiel agreed. ‘It’s just that … suddenly … everything is moving impossible fast, whereas in the recent past things have moved at a regular pace. It was slow and it was fine when it was you and me and Sam and even Aroura, but then we got married and everything jump started.’

‘We need to stop talking about this,’ Dean decided, reaching for the soap and beginning to wash Cas’s back. ‘So. Drunk Francis was funny. This morning I thought she was going to kill someone but by the time the end of the reception rolled out I was almost certain she was about to start singing a Bob Marley song and waltz around holding a joint.’

‘Francis is … quite a character,’ Castiel agreed, ‘although I can’t imagine her doing that. Where would she even get the joint?’

‘From that guy, what’s his name. The British dude who was hanging around Peter or something. He looked like he probably sells drugs on street corners.’

‘That’s unfair.’

‘And that guy who kept talking about his job looked pretty high too.’

‘Dean, no one was high.’

‘Sam was. Did you see that look on his face?’

‘You mean … happiness?’

‘That’s what it was?’

Castiel laughed, turned around and slipped his arms around Dean’s waist.

‘My favorite part of the day was when both Jody and Donna forced you to dance with them,’ Castiel said slyly, changing the subject completely. ‘You looked terrified. It was thrilling.’

‘You’re not supposed to deprive joy from my terror.’

‘Well, I do. So what are you going to do about it?’

Dean paused, considered it, and splashed the water spray into Cas’s face. Castiel paused, giving a roll of his eyes, before he turned the shower head completely on Dean and turned the temperature down to the coldest it would go and before Dean realized what he was doing it was already cold enough to make him start to squeal and Castiel start to laugh, his laughter turning quickly into screaming when Dean wrestled the hose out of his hands and turned it on him, getting the two of them covered in the icy water in the process.

Once their little fight was over, they turned the temperature back up and huddled together, pressing cold, wet chests against each other, seeking warmth the other didn’t have while they waited for the hot water to do it’s work. Now that their laughter and silliness had calmed down, even though they were in no danger, a sense of safety washed over them as they stood there, just holding each other …

Until the hot water died.

And then there was screaming.

They scrambled to get out of the shower and into towels at once, drying themselves as quickly as they could and redressing, dashing back to their room craving the warm covers of comfort. Shepherd was on the bed to greet them, yapping as he usually did when left alone, and Cas scooped him up and held him close to his chest to steal his warmth.

‘Hey man, share,’ Dean complained, diving under the covers.

‘Get your own dog,’ Cas shot at him.

‘That _is_ my dog,’ Dean frowned.

‘I thought you said when we were buying it that it’s _my_ dog.’

‘Share. Our. Damn. Dog.’

‘He’s not an object to be used for your heating needs.’

‘Then he’s not an object to be used for _your_ heating needs.’

‘Yes he is. I got to him first.’

‘Come on, Cas. Just … thirty seconds.’

‘Use the fish.’

‘He lives in water.’

‘Get wet.’

‘I just got _dry_.’

‘Then I can’t help you.’

‘ _You_ use the fish.’

‘I’m not hugging the fish. He lives in water and I just got dry.’

‘Well, I’m not hugging the fish. Share our dog.’

‘You said he was my dog.’

‘We’ve been here before.’

‘Have we? I hadn’t noticed.’

‘We passed that couch an hour ago.’

‘What?’

‘It’s a reference to a show called Malcolm in the Middle. Malcolm and Stevie are lost down town, and they pass this couch, and then Stevie says the thing.’

‘Oh.’

They fell silent. They lay back against their pillows as they sighed after their fast-paced conversation.

‘Here,’ Castiel said grudgingly, after a minute or two, handing Dean Shepherd.

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah. Use him.’

‘Wow, Cas. I can’t believe you’d just toss him around like he’s an object.’

‘Well then give him back!’

‘Are you kidding? Fuck off. He’s mine. Look, he’s licking me. Did he lick _you_ just now?’

‘No, but to be fair I was pining him to my chest and he’s just walking all over you.’

‘Maybe he feels comfortable enough to walk on me but not on you.’

‘Dean, we literally have this argument every other day. Basically whenever it’s not your night to have him on your side.’

‘And one of these days I’ll win.’

‘There are no winners. We made an agreement. Three nights a week he’s on your side, three a week he’s on mine and once a week he’s in the middle. We shook on it.’

‘We did more than shake on it.’

‘Dean, there’s a puppy literally right there. Don’t corrupt him.’

With a defeated sigh, Dean handed Shepherd back over and Cas placed him neatly on his side of the bed, putting him on the pillow he liked to lay on. He settled immediately, so Cas felt free to turn over and face Dean. Dean turned from his back to his side and flashed a cute smile, a very purposefully cute smile, that made Cas sigh, roll his eyes and kiss him softly, lingering and giving in to it, dropping his pissyness with Dean’s dumb and defiant façade and allowing himself to start feeling tired after the long day.

‘Today was good, wasn’t it?’ Dean asked quietly, sensing the change in Cas.

‘It was,’ Castiel agreed. ‘It was better than I expected it to be. And the people … were nice.’

‘Yeah, once we stopped hiding out by the pool house,’ Dean chuckled. ‘Aroura’s friends are nicer than her family. Her family are all … weird.’

‘They probably think _we’re_ weird.’

‘Good point. Suppose we’ll have to meet more of her friends when we go to Karla and Asher’s wedding. Jeez, we’re _wedding_ people now. How the hell did that happen?’

‘It happened when your brother married someone normal,’ Castiel commented casually, with a little tired sigh.

‘You call “The Savior” normal?’

‘Well … she’s normal in every other way.’

‘ But like, rich normal. Not normal normal. But … still normal. House, people who raised her, family, friends, job … dog. Man, that dog’s going to see more places in a week than I’ve seen in my whole life.’

‘Spoiled,’ Castiel decided, in false distaste.

‘Very spoiled,’ Dean agreed in similar tones. ‘How’s Shepherd?’

Castiel looked over his shoulder.

‘Needs more blanket. Stop hogging it all.’

Dean sighed and pushed some of the covers away from himself so Cas could cover Shepherd and make him comfortable.

‘Talk about spoiled,’ Dean muttered, making Cas laugh. ‘Ugh. Anyway. We should get to sleep. Big day of doing nothing ahead of us tomorrow.’

‘We should go somewhere,’ Castiel decided. ‘It was fun when we out and made that money. We should do that again. A bar during the day where they’ll let us take Shepherd.’

‘Yeah, we’ll check something out,’ Dean agreed with a sigh, closing his eyes. ‘Night, Cas.’

‘Night, Dean,’ Castiel replied, kissing him softly again before he turned over and wrapped his arms around the pillow Shepherd was on and felt Dean snuggle up to his back.

When morning came, it was no different to their usual mornings apart from the fact that they didn’t shower having already done so last night They made their bed and dealt with Shepherd and let him wander around the kitchen while Dean made toaster waffles ad Cas made coffee and the two of them ate them, and it was then that it began to feel different because they were alone and though it wasn’t the very first time they’d been alone in the bunker, the hustle and bustle of the past while had suddenly vanished. There may have only been two extra people and another dog around, but without them things felt so … empty. Not in a bad way just in a strange, changed way, and a new atmosphere was sneakily settling over them. It was almost as though they lived there alone and together like a normal married couple with a dog.

Dean had become … one of those people. Which he truly hadn’t expected. He’d gotten a taste of some kind of normality once, years ago, that he didn’t like to think of, and it was the last thing he’d expected to happen again. But it had. In a way that was a little unorthodox in reference to the bunker and location of aid bunker in the secluded area of the small town that barely constituted a town, but it was that whole life vibe all the same.

‘So, what’s on the agenda for today?’ Dean asked as he sat across from Cas and felt Shepherd start jumping up his leg, begging for the scraps he was still too delicate to be allowed to have. It was a trick he’d learned from Shrek.

‘Well, we mentioned going out, and of course we need to walk _him_ ,’ said Cas, pointing under the table at Shepherd, ‘but besides that I can’t think of anything.’

‘I think we need some food,’ Dean said thoughtfully. ‘We’re almost out of milk and bread. We should go to the store. Or a store. Maybe do some decent shopping a that Walmart an hour away, we might actually find some name-brand stuff.’

‘That sounds like a plan,’ Castiel nodded. ‘Anything else?’

‘Sam and Aroura said we could continue Game of Thrones without them. We could do that. Oh, and we could go out somewhere for lunch today. And even after all that we’ll still probably have too much free time. It feels weird.’

‘Well, we’ll think of something,’ Castiel decided. ‘If we run out of ideas for things to do we can always just … I don’t know. Walk around naked or something just because we can. Or _cook_ naked,’ he added, thinking ahead. ‘There’s something else to fill time. Dinner tonight.’

‘Good thinking,’ Dean nodded, then grinned. ‘Huh. Walking around naked. _Here._ Sam would be horrified if he knew.’

‘Well, Sam’s not here,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘No, he’s not,’ Dean agreed, flashing Cas a smirk.

At that moment, Shepherd decided to bite Dean’s leg as a substitute for getting scraps and Dean let out a yelp similar to one of Sheperd’s barks, more at the surprise than the miniscule pain. Castiel laughed at him so Dean flung a piece of broken toaster waffle at him, but Cas caught it and ate it, looking smug.

It was going to be an interesting day.


	40. Run, Part Two

Sam and Aroura began their plans for moving out pretty much as soon as they returned.

It was inevitable, unsurprising, and ironic that Sam had been the one talking about getting new furniture for the bunker’s living room yet he’d never gotten to get it. Instead, he got to buy furniture with his wife for his new small home that was basically in the middle of nowhere because despite the fact that there were currently no demons or monsters chasing their asses, it would be safer to hide out in an obscure location. It’s not like getting around would be an issue; Aroura could teleport wherever the fuck she wanted, and it she wasn’t around the nearest town was an hour away and Sam would be taking his favorite car.

Sam and Aroura did most of their shopping online while casually chatting about what they’d gotten up to while they were away. Shrek enjoyed beaches, and Sam did too, and he kept saying how ‘I never knew I’d like beaches so much. There’s just … something about the ocean.’

‘Then it’s lucky you married someone who’s have got grandparents with a beach house,’ Dean joked, to which Sam rolled his eyes.

They weren’t moving very far away. It was a small house within the state of Kansas and Aroura’s grandparents had given her the money for it; usually she didn’t accept handouts, but they’d told her to see it as a gift and they really sort of needed a house and couldn’t exactly afford one on their own, so accept that gift they had.

It was weird, yet it wasn’t as shocking at it had seemed just weeks ago, back when Dean and Cas were in Vegas and talking about changes to come. It seemed like it was a path that had always been coming, a light at the end of the tunnel that they knew would one day be achieved but as things in their lives got more and more dire it seemed they’d never reach it and they were in denial for so long even when all signs pointed towards the fact that they had.

The codependent car-and-motel-dwelling brother thing was a thing of the past, and instead loomed a brighter healthier future for two brothers who were close, who saw each other often, who talked pretty much daily and would no doubt work together in the future because they’d never truly escape their supernatural roots.

A healthy future, an unseen future, a _normal_ future.

The kind of lives the kids they went to school with probably had, in the many schools they’d gone to. The kind of lives everyone else their age had. People they loved, lives, journeys to go on, journeys involving more than just driving and driving across the country, with a slight peak in visits to Illinois because a whole lot of supernatural shit seemed to go down there.

In a way it was like the end of an era.

No. It _was_ the end of an era.

But it wasn’t quite as bittersweet as say, the epilogue at the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, a beloved series come to end with a bright future where “all was well.” It was more Mockingjay; individuals were still scarred, would always be scarred, would have pasts and tales impossible to think about and others that would haunt them, cropping up in a random nightmare after a bad day for years to come, despite the future being bright. Normal. Or as normal as they were going to get when Sam still checked the internet and papers for signs of possible cases and called people about them that he knew hunted in the areas, or as normal as they were going to get when Cas was still in training and building up his knowledge of the basics to the extent that Dean’s reached, Dean guiding him along.

Two married couples and the places they dwelled with their dogs, two happy futures on the horizon, two brothers still very much involved in the world of monsters like it was a drug they couldn’t quit. They’d managed to kick the heroin, but still smoked weed.

But sometimes weed was good. It was familiar. And it wasn’t nearly as bad as heroin.

Setting up a house that was bare to almost its very foundations looked … hard. Dean and Cas were witness to many arguments about paint colors or discussions about what kind of flooring to get in what rooms, and what color carpets, what kind of wood, tile or marble …

‘Cas?’ Dean said quietly one afternoon, leaning in towards Cas to mutter it from where they were sitting side by side on Dean’s laptop, Dean looking up a case nearby and wondering whether to take it or call someone about it.

‘Yeah?’ Castiel replied, keeping the arguing couple in his peripheral vision as they stood in the middle of the stairs arguing now about curtain rods.

‘We’re never moving.’

‘Agreed,’ Castiel nodded, frowning at the continuing argument. ‘Unless this moving thing causes them to get divorced. Then we’ll have to leave or Sam will be insufferable.’

‘We’ll live in a motel. So what happened to them won’t happen to us.’

‘Yes. That seems … safe.’

They continued to watch the argument unfold; both characters were extremely animated and convinced they were right about … whatever the hell it was they wanted. Dean couldn’t tell.

‘Just how many options for curtain rods _are there_?’ Dean asked.

‘An infinite amount, by the way they sound.’

‘Do you think if we leave they’ll know it’s because of them and turn on us?’

‘Do you think if we stay here they’ll ask for our opinion like they did when they couldn’t pick a fridge?’

‘… Together or separately?’

‘Together. You can’t leave me here with them and I would never leave you here with them either.’

‘Oh, no,’ Dean said loudly with a sigh, ‘battery’s low. Come on, Cas. We better go.’

‘Let’s go plug it in,’ Castiel agreed just as loudly, and the two of them escaped unscathed.

This time.

Although they were still scarred from trying not to offend either angry party with their fridge opinions that were completely pulled out of their asses from the day before.

‘If we ever start acting like that, shoot me,’ Dean muttered once they were safely away.

‘Only if you shoot me first,’ Castiel countered.

‘No. No way. Then you’d die first, and you’re not allowed to die first. Understand?’

‘Fine. We can shoot each other at the same time.’

‘Better. I’m in.’

They relocated to their bedroom, because the battery really was running low. Shepherd was asleep in his bed but was soon transferred to theirs as they climbed on it side by side, propped up by pillows, plugged in safely as they read over a case that seemed so basic. It screamed vengeful spirit, violent poltergeist, something along those lines, all the signs of the easiest cases to take, cases it had been years since Dean had taken on, cases Cas had never taken on at any point.

‘So, what do you think?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at Cas.

‘You said it’s only two hours from here,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘Yeah, if traffic’s good.’

‘Then I don’t see why we shouldn’t take it. It’s been weeks since we’ve done anything and … I think I’m ready for it.’

‘Then we’ll leave tomorrow,’ Dean grinned proudly, the thought of a case honestly exciting him after the lengthy break. And such an easy, satisfying case to work, the kind of case he missed. ‘I’m sure the Soon-To-Be-Divorcedchesters won’t mind taking care of him, if they don’t kill each other first.’

Dean gestured Shepherd, happily chewing on a rope between them.

‘If you ever make a pun like that again, _we_ will be the ones who the pun suits.’

‘Right. Sorry.’

 They left for that case the following day, glad to leave the angry giant and the mouse behind, hoping that among their arguing about bathroom wall colors that they would remember to feed Shepherd. And Shrek, too, who had been cowering away from them in his room that soon would no longer be his room because he’d have a garden to gun around like a normal dog.

It had been years since a case had gone so smoothly. A little of getting thrown around, a little grave desecration, badda bing, badda boom, case solved.

‘Maybe you _are_ our good luck charm,’ Dean commented, recalling the case in he and Sam had worked with Cas a few weeks ago, with the vampires where nothing had gone wrong.

‘Probably,’ said Cas, pretty smugly, as they wiped off their hands and headed back towards the car, grave smoking behind them as they left. ‘I guess I was what you two needed all along.’

‘Well, that’s obvious,’ Dean pointed out. ‘You’re pretty much … the reason everything’s been going right lately. First you and me got together, then everything else fell into place after it … give or take a mishap or murder or two or more.’

Castiel laughed at how casually he spoke of the murders of literal God and angels and Lucifer and other weird unnatural crap.

And that was how it was going to go for the foreseeable future.

Dean and Cas helped Sam and Aroura move into their house. Thankfully they’d stopped fighting as soon as everything was decided and set up, which was lucky for Shrek because the poor dog looked traumatized by all the drama. It was weird for Dean to see his brother in such a … a _charming_ place. A place he now lived. A place he could call home. A place he now lived and could call home, and have someone to be at home with.

The last time Dean had been in that situation was when Dean showed up and fucked it all up and said that stupid thing he’d said about how dad had gone off on a hunting trip or whatever he’d said that had started this whole mess of a train wreck they’d finally clawed their way out of.

It was like it had come full circle, and now they were back where they started except they were _both_ happy and they were _both_ safe and they were going to stay that way.

They met up twice a week.

Once at the bunker, and Dean cooked. Once at Sam and Aroura’s place, and they had takeout, because neither of them knew how to cook. Aroura could _bake_ , but they weren’t about to have cupcakes or cookies or whatever else she could bake for dinner, and she deemed their system of alternating between ready-meals and going out not good enough for company. So they had takeout, and Sam had salad before his because he was still a rabbit, and the dogs played together, and they had normal conversations like normal people and yeah, those normal conversations included abnormal aspects but those abnormal aspects were normal to these abnormal people.

Dean and Cas worked one case a week. Small, easy cases, usually within the state or the states that bordered it. For slightly tougher cases (there was one coven of witches they discovered that looked like something that wouldn’t be smart to dive right into) they called for backup – and Sam was happy to help. Once, _once,_ one of them got captured on a case. And _once_ one of them got tied to a chair. But it’s not like they didn’t get out of it pretty quickly and put an end to whatever was going on.

It was routine. It was like a normal job. Hunting things and calling other hunters about cases farther away. And once a week, Dean and Cas went out and they played pool and cards and darts and made money. And Aroura did her charity work from where she was, popping around the country as she needed, and Sam got a part time job in a book store in the nearest town to where they lived.

It was like a perfectly imperfect apple pie life.

Until it all went horribly _wrong_.

They had two months of what seemed to be perfection. The crisp winter air turned into the softer breezes of spring, the tiny, playful puppy turned into a larger, still playful, slightly older puppy. Sam learned to cook a total of two dishes without messing them up. Aroura was a little slower to learn. Cas finished reading all of the Harry Potter books and he and Dean watched all of the movies. Next, he moved on to reading some of JK Rowling’s other works because he liked her style. Shepherd learned to walk on his leash correctly and destroyed one of Dean’s shoes, thankfully an old one belonging to a pair Dean never wore anymore.

It was like a fairytale come to life but with more monster-hunting and extreme homosexuality and shower sex. And kitchen sex. And living room sex. And literally fucking in every room because Dean and Cas lived alone and they could do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted and it didn’t matter if they left ass prints on any tables or other surfaces.

It was weird. It was freeing.

Until the phone call that came one afternoon from Aroura, stating that Sam had collapsed and wasn’t waking up.

It was a surreal experience, going to a hospital for a patient who they knew and not some random victim of a supernatural attack. It was riddled with déjà vu for Dean from when Bobby was in hospital and what worried him was that Bobby died there and if it hadn’t been for Cas holing his hand he would have sent himself into a state of panic, but thankfully Sam wasn’t so critical. He just … literally wasn’t waking up. He wasn’t in a coma. He was just sleeping and not waking up. His vital signs were weaker than average which was what caused the collapse, but besides that there was no explanation for why he wasn’t waking no matter what drugs they pumped into him.

There was nothing to do but for Dean, Cas and Aroura to sit around him and wait, answering calls and messages from their worried friends and urging them not to come and visit, because Sam was fine and he was going to wake up.

And after six days, he did.

Aroura wasn’t there. Dean and Castiel had stopped in to visit, to wait, hoping for an update, and less than five minutes after arrival Sam woke and they found that almost instantly he was completely alert and his vitals were back to normal and it was as if nothing had ever happened. The doctors said that it was like a miracle and they’d let him go right that second if they didn’t know any better, but they decided to keep him another day or two for observation and testing.

And then it was just like any other visit, like he was in his house. They talked. The caught up. They laughed. The played some cards. Aroura returned, she was overjoyed, it was a good … half hour, after Aroura got back.

And then Sam started to weaken. He started to talk less. He mentioned feeling light headed.

And then he was out again.

It continued like that for several days. Sam would wake, he would talk, they’d have about an hour or more of regularity, and then he’d sink back in. It was always the same. He’d either wake while alone or while Dean and Cas were there, then shortly after Aroura got there he’d fall back into whatever it was was wrong with him.

He never woke when Aroura was there and he never passed out when she wasn’t.

It was when Dean joked that maybe Sam was doing it on purpose to escape married like that Aroura started acting weird and they knew something must be up.

It was completely ridiculous to suddenly think Aroura, someone had before their friend, their family really, over the course of the past months, was up to something. What exactly would she be up to? Had she gotten bored of Sam and needed a way to get rid of him? Or was she slowly killing him to inherit the buckets of money and glory he surely had? No. Neither of those made any sense. There was literally no reason to think anything suspicious was going on.

That was, until Aroura started acting weirder and weirder.

She started avoiding being there when Dean and Cas were there. Leaving when they showed up. Never coming back while they were still there. And Sam was always awake now, but she always complained that he was never awake when she was there. And besides that, when they spoke to her, she was quiet, distant and indirect. When they saw her go in after they left once, she stared at Sam, who was awake, until Dean and Cas had left, staring with a blank expression as if she didn’t care for him in the slightest, and then only when Dean and Cas had turned away did they hear her begin to talk softly, finally signaling that she cared about him at all.

That was the day they decided to stick around and come back a few minutes later, hanging around out of sight but just within ear’s reach, Sam now back in his comatose state as Aroura stood by him.

And that was the day that they knew it was time to run.

‘I don’t know what I expected, really.’

Dean glanced at Castiel, who shrugged.

‘Are there nurses in there?’ Dean whispered.

‘I don’t hear any,’ replied Cas. ‘She must be talking to Sam.’

‘To drain you of your life all at once would be … suspicious,’ Aroura went on. ‘But maybe that’s what I should have done. Or staged an accident or something. Draining the life out of someone isn’t as easy as say … draining the grace from an angel.’

Cas looked at Dean. Dean looked at Cas.

It just felt … wrong.

Like things were happening too fast, that it as rushed, that it didn’t make any sense for this to happen _now_ after all this time, after everything … after the odd cases and the random villains and their lives basically not making any sense since Aroura stepped into them …

But really, literally what the fuck had their lives been? Random demon back from the dead. Random person killed everyone in hell. God and angels murdered by random demon back from the dead, demon killed …

The fuck was that?

‘Two more days, maybe,’ Aroura said with a sigh, the scraping of the chair being heard on the floor. ‘Two more days, then I’ll end it. And then I’ll take out the other two, too.’


End file.
